The Capitol's Tribute
by realtalkproject
Summary: Five years with the Capitol, Rixa Hart figured there was no way she could be the District 12 Tribute. But that wasn't the deal. Her name was still in the Reaping. The odds aren't in the Harts favor. Because two Harts will go in and only one will come out.
1. The Capitol Party

Strange, loud music pumped all around me. The sun had long since set and the party was hours in. Even behind a closed door I could feel the room vibrate with the rhythm of the song. I glanced in the mirror, examining myself.

My long white-blonde hair was straight along my back, a few intricate braids wrapped around my head. My stylist and friend, Cinna, had done an amazing job, as always. A golden swirl pattern had been painted along the right side of my face and around my eyes, highlighting my dark brown pupils. The circles under my eyes from nights of glamorous Capitol parties were easily erased with a light coating of make up.

I grabbed a crystal jar off the make up table and quickly pulled off the thin glass lid. Dipping my hand inside, I caught the light, feathery brush. In one swift motion, I patted another layer of the pale powder under my eyes, and around the rest of my face for good measure. This was my party after all, why shouldn't I look flawless?

Standing up, I smoothed out the breath-taking dress that I had helped design with Cinna. It was dark green and made to look like a leaf. There was a slit up the left side, showing a bit more skin than necessary, and a thick strap on the right. My pale skin was covered in a shimmery sheen. My make up was dark and smoky, giving me a seductive look. Cinna was always trying out new techniques on me and I was happy to be his guinea pig. Everything Cinna did or made was beautiful. I could never go wrong with him.

A large marble door opened up behind me, hitting me with a blast of music and other party noises. A tall, slender fiery redhead was suddenly in my view, lit up by the colorful flashes behind her. Her short, white dress flashed as the colors of the light changed from red to blue to yellow and so on.

"Come on, Rix," Her deep voice laughed, "You look amazing, no need to hide out!"

"Not hiding, just primping," I retorted, though I knew she could see I was on edge. And how could I not be when in a few short hours I would be on a train, heading back home to the bleak and depressing District 12. Nothing good was waiting for me there, especially after the Hunger Games the year before when I lost the boy I loved to Katniss: Peeta Mellark, the other victor.

"Honestly, Rixa, get over that lovesick baker's boy. He's a loser for choosing that crazy savage over something as gorgeous as you." The girl recited for the millionth time. Some[i]thing[/i]. There that word was again. Even with my friends I was an item, a product of the Capitol. "Besides, you have nothing to worry about. You're basically a member of the Capitol. They just put you in the Reaping to humor the others. You'll never be picked."

I knew she was right. I would never be picked in the Reaping; that was preposterous. They wouldn't send a member of the Capitol to the Games. It was unthinkable. But the thought of returning home to the horrid poverty, and the star-crossed lovers, made me sick.

I forced a black lipstick caked smile, "You're right, Oceilia. I'll be right out. This is my going away party after all."

"That's more like it," Oceilia grinned back, smacking my butt playfully, "Now, get out there and break some hearts. You'll be back in the Capitol before you know it!"

Oceilia was right as usual. I needed to get over Peeta. It had been almost a year. He was going to be wed to Katniss pretty soon, after they were done mentoring this year's Games. He had forgotten about us, it was high time I did too.

"Make this night count. I'm going to have to survive on it until the Reaping is over." I joked, walking out the door in my high heels. Oceilia followed close behind and it wasn't long before we were on the dance floor.

It was a huge event. Half of the Capitol had been invited and the other half appeared to have come anyway. Important government officials and young children alike had shown up to see me off. In the five years I had shuttled back and forth between my district and the Capitol, I had made many powerful and important friends. I'd either entertained them with my dancing and singing or seduced them (metaphorically) with my wit and charm. I had even had the pleasure (if you could call it that) of meeting President Snow.

It had been during last year's Games when I had come to visit, terrified for Peeta's safety. I hadn't had the opportunity to say everything I wanted in the short time we'd spent together in the Justice Building in District 12. It was after the interview where Peeta declared his undying love for Katniss. I had run out of the room willing myself not to cry, cameras were surely watching, they were always watching.

President Snow had been watching high in a balcony. He had quietly slipped out as the interviews ended, Peeta being the last. I ended up in a secluded hallway, trembling and sobbing, heartbroken. All I could think was how could Peeta do that to me? To us? Had our whole relationship been a fluke? Did he not love me, ever? He had been with me, because, like his father, he could never be with the girl he truly loved? It was all too much.

"Dear child," A deep, gravelly voice commented, "What could possibly move a pretty girl like you to this state?"

I started, not noticing his appearance through my ugly sobs. I stifled them immediately, not wanting the president to see me in this state. I brushed my falling tears with the sleeve of my jacket only to have more replace them. My face was probably blotchy and red, not exactly how I pictured meeting President Snow.

Back in District 12, the most powerful and important people we knew were Mayor Undersee and the Head Peacekeeper Cray. I had been in talks with more Capitol people as my trips became more frequent after I dropped out of school, but I never imagined meeting President Snow.

"I'm sorry," I stood up hurriedly, "I'm so embarrassed, sir. You shouldn't have to see me in such a state."

"I believe everyone has the right to a moment of weakness or two." He said, pulling something out of his pocket: a handkerchief. I took it wearily from his hands, not particularly wanting to use it, to smear my tears and snot all over this expensive piece of cloth. "Go on," He urged me and I hesitantly oblige.

"Do you know Peeta Mellark?" He asked suddenly and so casually that I hesitate again.

"Yes," I squeaked.

President Snow nodded. "I see," Now, he's making me nervous and I worry that I'm somehow going to get Peeta in trouble. "That was a very surprising announcement he just made, wasn't it?" Thinking about it makes me want to scream, to hit something or someone.

I nodded my blond head, not trusting my voice. President Snow smiled but it only made me uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry for what that silly boy has done, Miss. Hart." He said nonchalantly, yet threateningly.

I let out a tiny gasp. "You—You know my name?"

He chuckled good naturedly, "Of course I know your name. I'm the reason you're here in the Capitol. Who do you think signed off on your little agreement?"

I guess I had known he'd signed off on it, the deal that kept my family warm and fed. I would come to the Capitol; entertain its citizens with my beautiful dancing and dazzling personality. I just didn't think he had any idea who I was or kept tabs on me. It was frightening, really, to know how closely I was being watched….

"Yes, well, I must be going." He checked his watch but I had the sense that he could care less what the time was. He had come and done what he needed, I was unsure what I had to do with anything on the president's agenda. "If it's any consolation, I'm sure that silly baker's boy won't make it out of the arena alive." That was the last thing I wanted to hear.

President Snow smiled again, his full lips puffed out, his white teeth bared horribly. I tried to smile back the best I could, terrified of this man and what he really wanted with me. It obviously wasn't to console a crying child.

I had seen him more frequently but we had yet to have another conversation like that. I had more or less integrated into Capitol society, not really fitting in District 12 (not that I ever had). I looked exactly like my mother (who had been a Capitol citizen herself until she'd fallen in love with my father). The kids in District 12 mostly had olive toned skin, black hair, and grey eyes. The wealthier families had blonde hair and blue eyes but there weren't many wealthy, and our wealthy was like poverty to the richer districts. I always stuck out with my almost-white hair, nearly black eyes, and pale skin. Everyone looked different in the Capitol, that's why I felt more at home there. I didn't stick out like a sore thumb.

As I glanced around the room, there were hundreds of different hair colors, skin colors, and dress styles. Everyone was having a great time. They were at a fun party for a person they adored and the Hunger Games were right around the corner. Life couldn't be better for them.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and am shocked to see Plutarch Heavensbee. His eyes are almost as dark as mine and his soft hair is neatly slicked back. He's wearing a handsome suit, per usual. I've never seen him in anything but suits. Plutarch smiled genuinely at me.

"Good evening, Rixa Hart. May I have this dance?" I nodded politely as we set off around the dance floor. It's not an odd occurrence for people to ask me to dance; it's what I'm here for after all.

"I've heard you've been promoted to Head Gamemaker, congratulations are in order." I smiled. He shook his head, chuckling a bit.

"To be honest, there aren't many takers for the job." I know what he means. After what happened at last years Games with Katniss and Peeta both winning, no ones seen or heard from Seneca Crane (the old Head Gamemaker) since. I had heard from Finnick Odair that President Snow was beside himself in rage.

"I think you'll do a spectacular job," I said half heartedly, despising the Games. He must know because he doesn't gush over it like he might have done with anyone else, milking it for all its worth. "Where's it going to take place this year?" I asked innocently.

Plutarch threw back his head, laughing like he had never heard anything so ridiculous. "You know I can't reveal such intimate details!"

I shrugged, pouting my lip, "I can keep a secret." And I could. I knew almost every secret in the Capitol. It was a secretive place.

He pondered this for a moment. At last, he answered, "All I can say is it's going to be deadly beautiful." He grinned triumphantly. I nodded politely, mulling that over. I'll have to tell the District 12 tributes that when I get home, at least they'll have some small advantage.

"Can I cut in?" A familiar sweet voice asked. I glanced over and see Finnick waiting patiently.

"Oh, but of course!" Plutarch pulls out his golden watch and checks the time. I glanced over at it, examining the exquisite craftsmanship until I see something on the face, a small bird. I'd seen that horrid bird a hundred times in the last year. It was on Katniss' token: A Mockingjay. "I must be going, official Hunger Games business to attend to. Have a good trip out to District 12 and we can't wait until you return! Once the tributes have been selected I suppose I can give you more details on the Games this year." He winked quickly, bowing slightly (a common gesture in the Capitol). I returned it as Finnick stepped in.

"Good luck on the Games this year, Plutarch." Finnick saluted him, "I hear they're going to be unforgettable!" Plutarch grinned madly and set off.

Finnick placed a hand on my hip and another in my hand as we set off to do a common Capitol dance. "It's going to be in some meadow." Is the first thing he said, knowing I'm going to warn my tributes like he will with his.

"How do you always know everything?" I laughed exasperatedly.

"I have my ways." He answered slyly. I rolled my eyes; he knew how much that sentence irritated me.

I had met Finnick my first year at the Capitol. It was right after my first Reaping and I had been sent to entertain the guests for a Games ceremony. I was nervous—beyond nervous, really. My family was depending on this to work out so we could survive without my father. My siblings were too young to work—and I was, too—but I had a gift and it needed to be used. Finnick had been wandering around, recently escaped from a gaggle of girls who were fawning over him. He was only nineteen, then. I was some shy, terrified eleven year old, waiting to go on and entertain the Capitol. No pressure there.

Finnick came straight up to me and cracked jokes, making me forget my nerves and my family's hunger. He didn't have the faintest idea who I was, but he was looking out for me. He reminded me of my eldest brother who had passed away in a then recent accident in the coal mines of District 12. It wasn't a big accident; he was the only one who died. My father passed away of some terrible illness shortly after. Bad luck, they had called it. But Finnick felt like he was taking my brothers place, filling that fresh hole. My father, however, could never be replaced.

Ever since that night, Finnick and I have had each others backs. I knew he was a winning tribute but I never asked him about the Games. Instead, I treated him like a treated me, a normal human being, not some celebrity.

"I spent a little time with Glass Reylidge. She's got loose lips that one." Finnick commented casually as we continued to dance around, though, the music had died down.

"I bet she does," I muttered. Finnick glared playfully. He was a bit of a womanizer, having sex with women like it was nothing. I was a bit more reserved, having done it with only one boy. I felt my throat constricting as my grip on Finnick tightened. He must have noticed something was wrong because he changed the subject of our personal lives before it had really begun. Finnick knew everything about Peeta and I. He knew more than my own brothers and sister knew back home, more than my mother.

"It's getting near one." Finnick commented, knowing it was time for me to leave. He had promised to take me to the train. I said my goodbyes to everyone (which took a good half-hour) as they showered me with unnecessary gifts. I promised I'd be back as soon as the Reaping was over and after a long hug from Oceilia and a few other Capitol acquaintances, Finnick and I were on our way to the train.


	2. The Homecoming

"You ready?" Finnick called as the train came to a stop. I wished Finnick could come with me; it got awfully lonely on the two day ride back home with only an Avox to keep me company. But, Finnick had to go back to District 4. He was a mentor in the games after all.

"No," I answered truthfully. "But I don't have any other choice, do I?"

Finnick didn't speak. He hated this annual trip we made to the trains. He had come to see me off every year since I was twelve. If I was being honest, I was one of the few things Finnick cared about since he'd won the Games and been showered with anything his heart desired. He was rewarded greatly for his time in the Games but he would never wish them upon anyone else.

"I'll be back before you know it," I promised, standing on my tip toes and giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "You don't need to worry about me."

Finnick sent me a look, clearing pretending he wasn't worried, but I knew better.

"Oh, I'll miss you, too, Rix," I muttered sarcastically. The next thing I knew I was being suffocated in Finnick's arms, crushed under his immense strength. He rested his slender face on top of my head, sighing deeply.

"Only one more year, Rix," Was all he said, but I knew what he meant. Only one more year and the looming threat of being Reaped into the Games was over. I would truly be safe.

I held on tighter, burrowing my head into his suit. The train was waiting so I had to pull myself away. I picked up my small suitcase and hopped on. Setting my suitcase by the door, I turned back around to face Finnick.

"Only one more year," I repeated with a small smile. He returned it, stuffing his hands in his pockets. The train had started and the Capitol was passing by. I sent him a wave but I was gone before he could return it.

I turned around to pick up my suitcase but it was already gone. An Avox must have slipped by when I was saying goodbye to Finnick. I followed the familiar hallway to the room I always stayed in on the train. For the next two days I would be sleeping and eating, not necessarily in that order. But on a train, there wasn't much else I could do.

* * *

><p>The two days were excruciatingly slow. I didn't want to go back to District 12, knowing that the lovesick power couple would be there. My family was there, though, and I <em>had<em> missed them terribly. Madge, my neighbor, was there, as well as Gale (who I had become close to during the Games last year). Other then them, my list of reasons to come home was very short.

The train slowed to a halt and I left the train without packing up my things. I would be back on in a few hours. It was only ten. The Reaping wasn't until two and then I would be back to the Capitol.

I stepped off the train, feeling the warm sun hit my skin immediately. I loved the warm months in District 12 but not much else. I loved warmth. The cold months were brutal and I no longer had anyone to hold me through them, to keep me warm. The Capitol was always warm; I suspected it was climate controlled.

I took in a deep breath of the humid, coal filled air before releasing it in a scream.

"Hey, sis," A tall, white-blonde haired boy said casually, leaning against a wooden post on the train station. His dark brown eyes were almost black in the sunlight, similar to mine. His pale skin was a bit tanner than mine, but still quite pale.

"You almost gave me a heart attack, Brant!" I sighed, ruffling my hair a bit, glaring at my older brother. Brant was eighteen, on his last year of Reaping. After our father and brother, Jay, died, Brant took over the head of the house. Instead of quitting school to work in the dangerous mine, I arranged a deal with the few Capitol contacts my mother still had and made sure we had money for Brant to keep to his schooling.

With the money I got in the beginning, we bought the house next door to the Undersee's and I befriended Madge, a girl I had only seen briefly at school. Before I dropped out of school I would sit with Madge and Katniss during lunch (this was before Katniss stole Peeta). Madge was one of the few friends I had before I left for the Capitol and the only one, besides Gale, I had left.

"Maybe if you came back more than once a day a year I would be nicer." Brant smirked. Though he was joking, I knew he wished I would come back more. But I just couldn't.

"I can only take so much of you," I joked before he started messing up my hair.

"Poor little Capitol princess. Where's Cinna when you need him?" Brant snorted, grabbing my hand and dragging me down the path to our home. I let it slide, not wanting to talk about Capitol stuff when I was home.

"How's everyone?" I asked, though he knew who I was referring to.

Brant shrugged, "Fine."

I nodded, not really wanting the details of the lovers. "Good, good. Good. That's..."

"Good?" Brant answered, smirking. "He keeps to himself mostly. To be honest, I haven't seen them together much since they got back, besides the Victor's Tour."

I made a noise, trying to sound nonchalant. "Hmm."

Before I knew it we were back in front of my home. Brown in color, it was similar to Madge's in design, one of the biggest houses, aside from the houses in the Victor's Square. The door opened with a creak and the next thing I knew I was on the ground, tackled by two small bodies.

"Rixa!" They shrieked in delight.

I struggled to sit up, laughing at my younger siblings' excitement. "Koel, Ruby, I missed you!" The brunette siblings grinned identically, their gray eyes glittering. Their small arms wrapped around me again, squeezing me.

"Alright, alright," Brant chuckled, helping me up with Koel and Ruby still attached to my body. "Let's give Rixa have a chance to breath."

I grinned down at the twins; my heart ached that I would be gone again in a few hours. Whenever I came home, I realized how much I missed them. Sometimes, when I was younger, I would ask for a longer visit. But after Peeta, the last thing I wanted to do was stick around to run into him or Katniss.

Koel and Ruby were ten. They had one more year until their names were entered in the Reaping. But I wasn't worried about them being picked. I wasn't worried about Brant, either. He had been in the Reaping for almost seven years now. It was unlikely he would ever be picked since I never allowed him to sign up for tesserae. Signing up for tesserae gave us a meager supply of grain and oil. Not even good grain or oil. It also put more slips with our names neatly printed on the back into the Reaping bowl, increasing our chances of becoming tributes.

I couldn't let my siblings sign up for it. I wanted our chances of being Reaped to be as slim as possible. So far, my plan had worked.

"Rixa," A soft, fragile voice called. I glanced up from my joyful younger siblings to see my mother's beautiful, yet, broken face. She hadn't been right since my father passed. "You're home."

"It's Reaping day." I answered. Coming home to my mother was always difficult. I loved her but I hated her. If she had just moved us back to the Capitol there would be no Reaping for her children. We'd all be safe, watching the Games in the comfort of our homes, not watching our friends and loved ones die. They would be strangers, no one of importance. And for that, I hated her, because they weren't strangers. I knew all the District 12 tributes and watched them die for years, until Peeta and Katniss.

"You look beautiful." She commented. I knew I did, I got my looks from her after all. My mother was a beautiful woman and I never questioned why my father had fallen in love with her. I assumed at one time she wasn't as glum and broken because I knew first hand looks didn't keep a relationship together.

"Thanks, Ma," I said back quietly.

"I miss you," I could see her dark eyes filling with tears. She expected me to say it back but I couldn't lie to her. She deserved more than that.

"I know, Ma," I nodded. She did the same and went to off her room to cry in peace.

"Go play," Brant urged Ruby and Koel. They oblige, knowing that mother is having one of those days again: a day where she shuts herself out from the world and cries.

I heard the back door slam and the twins have gone into the yard.

Brant heaved a sigh and I know what's coming.

"I don't know," I answered before he can get the question out.

"You're last Reaping is next year and its going to be Koel's and Ruby's first. Ma's going to be catatonic. We need you to stay." He argued quickly.

"I can't stay here, Brant." I said stubbornly, shaking my head.

"Is it about money? I'll be done with school and off to the mines next year! I'll make money and if you start saving up your money now we could be set for awhile! Just until things are okay again. Ma and the twins need you!_ I_ need you." Brant raised his voice, frustrated.

"Brant," I shook my head stubbornly.

"Oh, Rixa, come on! Stop being so selfish!" He slammed his fist on the wooden table.

_"Selfish?"_ I remark, laughing humorlessly, "I gave up everything for this family! I quit school, I gave up friends, and I stopped you from adding your name to the tesserae list! Everything I've done is for this family so don't you _dare_ call me selfish." I seethed.

"Maybe in the beginning it was for those reasons." Brant said in a quiet voice, knowing he was about to go into dangerous territory. "But I think, now, you're just running away…"

"From what?" I shouted fiercely.

"Peeta." He answered simply. I narrowed my eyes, pulling in all the anger and hate I've bottled up in the years since my father died into them.

"You want me to stay. Then, fine." I breathed through my nostrils, trying to calm myself down. The twins were within hearing reach, I was sure of it. "But when this family starts to starve off of the crap you get paid by the mines, that's on you."

Brant felt the weight of this decision. He can't support this family, not without my job or our mother getting one. But, since she's never worked a day in her life, it's always been me who has to fill that hole.

"We can make it work," Brant promised but I know it's empty.

"No, we can't! Ruby and Koel will have to sign up for tesserae to keep food on the table. But I supposed if one of them gets chosen for the Games, that's one less mouth for us to feed, right?" I said callously, only thinking of my anger at Brant for making me feel guilty for leaving to support this family.

Brant looked shocked that I could even think such things, "How can you be so cruel?" He cried.

"I'm being realistic. If that's what you want, then I'll stay." I answered emotionlessly.

"I don't know who you are anymore." Brant spat, rubbing his red face angrily.

"I'm your sister whose trying to show you reason, the reason why I can't stay." I can feel my own eyes well up with tears like my weak mother had done moments ago. "I can't stay here, Brant." I sniffled, biting my lip to stop my foolish crying. Crying never solved anything.

"Oh, Rix," Brant sighed, pulling me in comfortingly. Our heated fight slowly faded away. "I think we're both being a bit selfish here." He said, smoothing down my hair as our father used to do when we were upset.

I nodded into his nicely cleaned shirt, "I think we need to find some middle ground."

"How about this," Brant asked, pulling away and setting me straight again, "You come home more often then just the Reaping and I won't speak of _him_ ever again."

"That doesn't seem like a fair bargain," I chuckled, "But I'll see what I can do."

"Good girl," Brant smiled. "Knew you'd do the right thing."

I rolled my eyes as I glanced out the window, seeing the metal fence that surrounded the district. "What time is it?"

"'Bout noon." Brant answered, "Why?"

"I'm gonna go visit." I stated, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "See you at the Reaping."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>_Going to see Hunger Games tonight! Should be a blasty blast. Maybe the odds be _ever_ in your favor! (:_

_How original. I know. Lemme know what you think? _


	3. The Reaping

I knew he'd be out there even though it was Saturday and he only gets Sundays off. Today was the Reaping. No one was working in the mines. He wouldn't be home either, too much anxiety and the unconscious need to supply his family with food and money. Yes, Gale would be in the forest. I just hoped his usual hunting companion would be absent.

I crept under the familiar fence that halfheartedly caged us in to District 12. With the heightened senses Gale had when wandering the forest, I knew he would find me in no time. I picked up a slender walking stick and began to drag it behind me to make me presence more pronounced. Gale would find me, no problem. I just wanted to be sooner rather than later. The forest always made me uneasy.

My sandal found a large pile of dry leaves and an arrow found my head.

"You should really be stealthier." A deeply amused voice said. My eyes crossed, trying to stare down the deadly metal tip of Gale's arrow. I shoved it to the side, getting a better look at him. Gale looked basically the same as he had the year before, maybe more pronounced dark circles around his eyes and a sterner look to his handsome, tan skin. He looked like most people from the Seam: grey eyes, black hair, and skinny from lack of food. Gale was better built then most, having been athletic from hunting his whole life, but he was starved in comparison to Capitol citizens.

Gale smiled, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow. "Rixa Hart. What a sight for sore eyes."

I grinned back, engulfing him in a hug. "Gale," I muttered into his old, brown shirt. "You look awful." I laughed, taking a step back to really get a look at him. His face was tanner than usual. It was still covered the coal dust that filled the mines. His old clothes were ripped and torn and his usually clean cut appearance had turn a big shaggy. A five o'clock shadow had risen on his face. Over his left shoulder was his trusted bow, on the right was his most recent kill: three squirrels.

"Can't all be privileged Capitol members, can we?" I knew he meant it as a joke but I could hear the disdain and bitterness in his voice.

"Guess not," I answered, brushing it off. I was used to Gale's open hatred for the Capitol. He wasn't saying things to hurt me, he was doing the only thing he could in this shit filled world we lived in, harshly speak his mind in private.

"Is it Reaping day already?" Gale asked unnaturally calm.

"No," I said, "Just stopped by for a nice visit."

Gale's thin lips twitched upwards, "If only."

I frowned. Gale had been talking to Brant. "You two been conspiring against me?"

"Would we do something like that?"

"Yes," I nodded, kicking a pile dirt. A rock got caught under my foot, trapping itself in my strappy sandal. _"Ow!"_ I flinched. I was never any good with pain.

With an exasperated sigh, Gale dropped his hunting supplies. He sat me down, taking down my shoe like I was some helpless child. "Gale," I muttered, feeling stupid. "It's a rock in my shoe, not an arrow through my neck."

"Shut it," He said gruffly, taking off my shoe with simple swift movements of his fingers. All those snares had given him quick fingers. Gale examined the bottom of my foot now coated in dirt.

"Ma's gonna kill me." I said aloud, mostly to myself then Gale.

"We'll clean you up so you're Capitol perfect when the Reaping starts." The spite was back. His eyes were red with anger, this time it was directed at me.

I grabbed Gale's hand and tore it from my dirt clad foot. "Stop," I commanded. "What has Brant been telling you?"

He took his hand back and tore off a piece of cloth from his fringing shirt. Placing it under my foot I realized it was bleeding. "Gale," I tried again.

"He says that you're running away from Peeta." He spat angrily. "And I agree."

I felt my face heat up. "Everyone's so concerned about me running away from Peeta. I can understand my brother not getting it, but you Gale?" I questioned fiercely, "You should know how I'm feeling better than anyone?" I wadded up the cloth he'd placed under my foot and threw it childishly to the ground.

Gale swallowed, his expression stony. "I do know how you feel. I live with the feeling everyday while you run around the Capitol, prostituting yourself." His words were barely above a whisper but they hurt as much as if he was screaming them at me. It was like a slap in the face to hear Gale say something so horrible to me. "I just don't run away like some foolish child. I face my problems head on and deal with the fact that Katniss is no longer mine."

I could feel tears burning my eyes again but I blinked them back. "You've always been stronger, Gale." I said quietly, biting my lip so hard that I could taste metal. "It's different for you. Katniss was never really yours. You had no claim to her."

"It doesn't make the pain hurt any less." He said calmly. We were in the same boat; there was no point in fighting over who was hurt more. Our hearts were crushed equally. I needed to stop acting like the victim. That's what Gale was trying to tell me. He wasn't a man of many words but I could always count on him to tell me the truth.

"Just say what you want to say." I braced myself for the blow.

He took a moment, deciding wisely on his choice of words, "Stay."

My dark brows furrowed at his response. "Why?"

Frowning, Gale squinted at the peaceful forest around us, "For me. So I'm not so alone."

I took in a deep breath, glancing around the beautiful world outside the Capitol. Out here, it seemed like another world entirely. One where Peeta didn't exist, where there were no Hunger Games, where Gale and I could live happily ever after.

"I've been lonely, too," I said, glancing back at him. He's staring me down, awaiting my answer. "Was this your guys' plan? Brant and you? To make me feel guilty so I'll stay?"

Gale chuckled lightly, "You're too smart for your own good. But it doesn't make my words any less true."

I nodded, "I know."

He peered at me with his beautiful grey eyes. They reminded me of Peeta's in a way. So heartfelt and determined. What I would give to look into those eyes again. I hadn't spoken to Peeta since our time in the Justice Building after he was Reaped. That was so long ago but I still remembered everything about it. It was the last time I thought I was going to see him.

"I'll stay as long as you don't too emotional. You know how uncomfortable I get when you cry." I mumbled, failing to suppress a smile. Gale genuinely brightened up for the first time since I'd last seen him. It had been a few months, I'd packed up before Peeta and Katniss had returned.

"I promise," Gale answered, standing up abruptly, pulling something out of his shirt pocket. Strawberries. "I'm heading over to Madge's. Wanna come?"

I nodded, picking up my shoe and placing it back on my naked foot. "If you don't mind the company."

"You're always welcome to join me. We can make a lot more trips together now that you're back. Maybe you'll finally let me teach you how to hunt." He said hopefully. I chuckled, as we made our way back through the forest.

"I'm not going to kill some poor baby rabbit. I'll come with you but I'll pass on the murdering."

"Noted," Gale smirked, pulling back the flap of fence, _"Ladies first."_ He put on a ridiculously high voice, mimicking the District 12 escort for the Hunger Games, Effie Trinket.

"Happy Hunger Games," I muttered, pushing myself through the metal links and back into District 12.

* * *

><p>Madge was over the moon to see me. She engulfed me in a hug and I joke about how she had won the warmest welcome.<p>

"Well, I got you to stay, didn't I?" Gale said smartly, crossing his toned arms over his chest.

"You're staying?" Madge exclaimed, her blue eyes widening

"Nothings official," I gave Gale a look that clearly meant to silence him. "I did sign a contract but I think I can ask for a longer break. I've earned it."

Gale looked at me, wondering what it was exactly that I did at the Capitol. I called it entertaining. Sometimes it was. Other times it was keeping someone company. Finnick was the prostitute. I had refused to go that far.

"Oh, I hope you stay!" Madge pulled me into another hug. "I know they miss you."

I stepped back, "Who?"

Madge looked at me like I was crazy, "Katniss. And Peeta."

I stood there, feeling uncomfortable. I wished people would stop saying things like that. I'd heard enough about Peeta and Katniss.

"Well, you better get yourself presentable or Effie will loose her wig." Gale cracked a smile, shoving me into Madge's house. "Do clean her up, she made an awful mess of herself out in the forest. Terribly clumsy this one is."

"Hey!" I argued but Gale was already running down Madge's driveway, laughing. I hadn't seen him this carefree, since, well, ever.

Madge grabbed my hand, staring at my feet in disdain. "Let's get you cleaned up a bit. Effie might actually lose her wig if I let you come to the Reaping like that. What color do you think it'll be this year?" She wondered aloud, dragging me through her cozy home.

* * *

><p>Madge and I walked quietly to the square together as the clock strikes two. Almost everyone in town was there since it was a mandatory event. On the large wooden stage sat five people. Effie Trinket, our district's escort, is dressed in the latest Capitol fashion, wearing a bright orange wig.<p>

_Peeta's favorite color_ I thought shrewdly, wondering if Katniss even knows this about Peeta or knew anything about him before they fell so blissfully in love.

Madge's father, Mayor Undersee, was on the podium, giving the annual Reaping speech, telling the history of Panem and the Dark Days (the uprising of the districts against the Capitol). Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth obliterated without survivors. The Treaty of Treason gave us these Hunger Games. They have simple rules: each district sends two tributes, one girl and one boy, and send them into an arena for the entertainment of the Capitol. The last tribute standing wins. This was the Capitol's way of reminding the districts of our indiscretions, our rebellion. They make a sporting event out of it, forcing us to watch our loved ones kill or be killed. It's sick, disturbing, and I was probably one of the few Capitol citizens who were completely repulsed by it. But I guessed that was mostly because I was only half a Capitol citizen. My father was from District 12 after all.

Mayor Undersee spoke of how the winning tribute—or in our case, tributes—lived a rewarding life, never to starve or be unhappy again. He nodded to our winning tributes but I kept my eyes plastered on Effie's outfit, reminding myself to ask her where she got her fabulous belt.

Haymitch Abernathy, the drunkard mentor that our losing district has had to put up with for so long, was surprisingly not as plastered as he usually was on Reaping day. And this year he was not alone. I knew Katniss and Peeta are on stage but I refused to give them the courtesy of my attention. They didn't deserve. It was selfish, I knew that. But I sacrificed everything for the people I loved, to make sure they had food and a good home. I could be allowed this one thing.

Effie took the stage, self consciously adjusting her wig. "Hello, hello, hello! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!"

I glanced over at Gale as he stood with the rest of the elder residents of District 12, too old to be in the Reaping. A grimace held his handsome olive skinned face, his eyes narrowed at Rory. It was his second Reaping.

It didn't take long for Gale to shift his gaze to me. He worried too much for his friends, for the people he loved. I smiled at him, trying to reassure him that I would be fine. The odds have always been in my favor, just like they had been in Gale's. I'd lost count how many times his name had been entered in the Reaping. Oceilia's words rang true in my mind; they wouldn't send a Capitol citizen to the Games. I tried to tell this to Gale with only a smile for he was too far to speak directly to. He only rolled his eyes, annoyed with my stubbornness. I could also see a glimmer of hope in his eyes and I knew he was thinking that I would be staying for the festivities they held after every Reaping. I nodded quickly, hoping that would be promise enough that I would do what I could to stay for him.

Effie pulled a giant glass ball closer, it was filled with all the names of children of District 12, ages eleven to eighteen. "And now, it's time for the Reaping!" I guessed I had zoned out during her whole speech. "Ladies first!" She dug in a perfectly manicured hand into the ball, shoveling around the papers until finding one she was satisfied with. Madge squeezed my hand; I can feel her sweating intensely. I didn't even notice she had grabbed it.

With one last reassuring look at Gale, I squeezed Madge back and faced Effie. Everyone around me drew in a collective breath and Effie opened her mouth.

"Rixa H—" Effie stopped mid-sentence, her smiling face dropped, "Rixa Hart." She finished in a strained, but clear voice.

And then there was a painful silence as no one volunteers to take my place.


	4. The Goodbye

It's eerie how quiet a crowd full of people can become. As my name started to register in my mind, the sea of people seemed to have vanished completely. I felt Madge drop my hand and pull me into a tight hug. She was shaking so she might have been crying, but I couldn't tell. I couldn't see. I couldn't hear. All my sense had shut down except the ability to move my feet. Slowly, they crept me up the pathway as Peacekeepers surrounded me, making sure I didn't flee. But I doubted I could flee if I wanted to. My brain had completely shut off.

I arrived on the stage feeling as though my legs had weights attached to them as I propped them up on each step. Since when had the stage been this far up? I never remembered there being this many stairs. I guessed I was subconsciously counting down my steps.

Effie grabbed me tenderly and placed me on the center of the stage. She said something into the microphone that was probably my name but my ears had gone temporarily deaf. Only a ringing could be heard. Effie traveled to the glass ball that held the boys' names. I felt ill, like I could fall over at the slightest touch. The name she was about to announce would not be my ally or tribute mate. He would be my enemy, one more person to kill to survive. But I wasn't so sure I wanted to survive the Games, even if I could.

My eyes finally focus in on Effie's face as my senses begin to trickle back. She looked about as sick as I feel. But, then again, maybe I looked awful. All the cameras must surely be on me, but I can't bear to look at my face, to see the helplessness.

With a rush of wind, my hearing came back, "Brant Hart." Effie announced regretfully.

I heard someone scream as my knees sank to the ground. _Brant Hart._ There was no mistaking it. My own brother was the other tribute. The screaming continues. It was heart wrenching and overwhelming. The scream went on and on until I realized it was me. I was the one making a scene.

_"Please!"_ I shrieked, "Someone—_anyone_—_volunteer_! Please, help him! _Volunteer_!" I screamed on and on. My vision was blurred by my falling tears. I couldn't image how desperate and weak I must look to District 12, the Capitol, and the other tributes. I was begging on my knees for people to volunteer for my brother so that I can kill them and not Brant. How irrational this all was. Who was going to sponsor a blithering wreck?

I felt a pair of strong Peacekeeper arms drag me back. I kept failing my body, begging and crying for volunteers but no one wants to go. No one wants to die for their friends or family. Katniss was the only exception to that rule. She was a rarity in the outer lining districts.

Then, Brant was there, trying to calm me down. Seeing his face—knowing it will be one of the last times I will—only made it worse.

"Rixa, Rixa come on," He begged, "Let her go!" Brant commanded the Peacekeeper, "_I got her_. Let her go!" Brant ripped me from the Peacekeeper's unwilling hands. Immediately, he dragged me through the Justice Building doors stationed behind us as I choked on my sobs. They echoed hauntingly as I begged one last time for volunteers.

_"Shhh,"_ Brant whispered, rubbing his hands through my hair, trying to calm me down. "Rixa, please, _its okay_." But his words were empty.

"I-Its not o-okay!" I sobbed, grabbing onto Brant tighter as if refusing to let go of him would keep him with me forever. "I-Its not o-okay!" Two Peacekeepers roughly wretched me away from my brother. _"Brant!"_ Two Peacekeepers were leading Brant away as well.

He looked lost but he was being strong. He wasn't screaming and having a fit. I wished I was that strong.

"Be brave, Rixa!" He cried as they carried him off to the room where he would have his final goodbyes. "Be strong. It'll be okay." He promised. I whimpered as they dragged my limp body down a hall, shaking from head to toe.

We passed by a few large, wooden doors until they thrust open the one I was supposed to stay in for the next hour. My last hour in District 12, ever. The Peacekeepers slammed the door behind me without saying so much as a word.

I trembled over to the bed in the corner of the room. Why there was a bed in the room I didn't know. Who was going to sleep for an hour after they'd been Reaped. Sleeping meant next to nothing on a scale of things I'd needed right now. I would say a get out a jail free pass or to have anyone but my brother be a tribute with me would be much more helpful. If it hadn't been Brant, maybe things would be easier. Maybe I could find some hope that even though I had no skills or talents that would be useful in the Games, maybe I could survive. But with Brant, I had no hope. He could win, I couldn't. It was as simple as that.

The bed didn't seem like such a silly idea anymore because all I wanted to do was lie down and cry. Besides the hard bed and a wooden chair next to it, the room was bare. There was a window but it was heavily covered by blood red curtains. _Blood._ I was going to see a lot of that pretty soon.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down, when the doors burst open and I began to cry again. It was Gale. The look on his face, the devastation, the anger. It was enough to make anyone scream. He looked like he was about to kill someone.

He glanced around the room, desperate for something to ease his pain. Gale grabbed a hold of the curtain and yanked them down. A loud _riiiip_ echoed in the quiet room. He was breathing heavily, trying to calm himself down. I sat up and reached out my hand, beckoning him. Gale plopped down next to me and propped my head gently in his lap, his quick fingers messing with my hair.

"What are you doing?" I croaked. Gale seemed determined to not look me in the eye until he calmed himself down.

"I've seen Brant do this when you get upset. He told me your dad used to it to make you feel better. Besides, it gives me something to do so I don't go outside and kill every last Peacekeeper in the city." Gale growled, breathing in deeply through his nostrils. I wiped the dripping snot on my sleeve.

"I'm so sorry, Gale," I whispered, suppressing a sob. I gazed up into his hardened eyes. One of his calloused hands was placed on my cheek.

"For what, Rix?"

"I promised I'd stay." I murmured. "Now, you're going to be alone again."

His grey eyes swirled, softening with wetness. "I won't be when you get back."

I reached up and grazed his recently shaved face, "I wont be coming back, Gale."

He grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly in his, "Don't talk like that! You _will_ come back. I know it." Gale said fiercely. His voice was so sure that I almost wanted to believe him.

I shook my head, my hair getting tangled in his hand, "I won't. But Brant could."

Gale's eyes widened in new found rage. He wanted me to come back but how could he voice such an opinion? My victory means his friends death. "Whatever happens, nothing good will come of it." I whispered. "My death means Brant's life, and visa versa. There's no guaranteeing Brant will win but he's strong, he's got skills. I have no chance. You have to let me go, Gale."

He shook his head as a warm tear came down on my face. Gale sniffed, looking away, not wanting me to see him like this. "Remember what I said, Gale? No crying." I muttered lightly. The expression on his face was a mixture of pain and laughter.

"So, what do we do now?" Gale asked gruffly, his fingers going back to work.

I blinked, the tears had dried. I wouldn't spend my last minutes with Gale crying and miserable. It would only make things worse for him. "We say our goodbyes." I answered.

He nodded regretfully, "You will at least try to win, Rix. For me?"

"Yes," I lied. "I'd do anything for you. If only we had more time."

He knew I was lying but didn't argue. We sat in silence for a few moments before I opened my mouth again. "Do you think we would have ended up together?"

Gale stopped, looking into my eyes again, "Maybe. Maybe in a different time, a different place."

"Maybe if we had more time." I finished. He nodded, his Adams apple quivering.

"I'll think about you," Gale promised, "I'll think about you everyday. I'll even pray for you to return."

"Pray? That seems a little extreme." I chuckled, playing with my hands. "I'll think about you until I die."

"Rixa," Gale sighed sadly but I cut him off.

"Don't watch, okay?" I begged, sitting up abruptly. "I don't want you to watch."

Gale hesitated. It was such an unfair thing to ask him, to stay in the dark and hear about my death or Brant's from the grape vine. But, I couldn't bear the thought of Gale watching me die. Would I suffer? How could I live the last week of my life knowing Gale would be watching, hurting for me? If I died, would a piece of Gale die with me? Or would Katniss finally go back to him to fix him?

"Promise me you won't watch, Gale." I pleaded, grabbing his hand again, "Lie to me at least!" I cried when he stayed silent. "Tell me you won't! I don't want you to see me die or what I'll become in the arena."

Gale sniffed, nodding, "I won't watch." He was a liar, but I had no authority to stop him. I would be hundreds of miles away, incapacitated, most likely dead.

The door to my room burst open. "Time." A tall Peacekeeper barked.

The false sense of security Gale's presence had given me vanished. Fresh terror filled my core. The look on Gale's face told me I was showing my weakness again. He pulled me into a tight hug.

"I love you, Rix," He mumbled urgently into my hair, "Please, _please_ try and win. I can't lose you, too." He placed a gentle kiss on my forehead.

I nodded, not being able to speak anymore. But, he knew I loved him as well. Grudgingly, Gale picked himself off the bed, slowly making his way to the door. As he looked back at my rigid body, my voice returned.

"Goodbye, Gale."


	5. The Mess

The door burst open again and revealed a teary-eyed Madge. I was yanked into yet another hug as my friend sobbed on my shoulder. I gently pulled away, walking her to the bed to sit down. She tried to compose herself, sniffling as she peered around the room.

"It looks the same as last year," She commented sadly. "When I came to visit Katniss."

I nodded. It was strange that only a year ago Katniss was sitting in this room, saying her goodbyes to Gale and Madge as well. She probably knew she'd win. I wished I had that luxury.

"What happened to the curtain?" She asked, shocked by its disarray. I almost wanted to laugh.

"Gale," I answered simply. Madge shook her head before her eyes widened as if she had forgotten something important.

Madge fumbled with something in her pocket, "I ran home and got this for you as soon as you left." She pulled out a small golden pin: a mocking-jay. Madge placed it on the ruffle of my dress with shaky hands. I didn't have the heart to tell her I didn't want it. It was no use upsetting her when I wouldn't live to fix it.

She leaned back, taking in my appearance, "I gave one to Katniss." I knew that. It was mainly the reason why I didn't want to wear this one. "The one I gave her was my mom's. This one was her sister's. She was in the Games, too."

_She died wearing this pin_ I thought _just like I will_.

"I'd like to think that, somehow, it helped Katniss win. So—I thought—maybe there could a chance it would do the same for you." She went on in a thick voice. The tears had finally stopped but she was still clearly upset.

It was such a heartfelt gesture that I knew I had to keep it as my token (even though the Capitol would make all kinds of insinuations and connections that I didn't want to be made). "Thank you, Madge." I said honestly, "I'm sure it will protect me as long as it can."

She nodded, relieved that I didn't rip it off when she mentioned Katniss.

"Time." The same Peacekeeper interrupted. Madge looked at me, terrified. I was still scared out of my mind but I was trying my best to mask it.

"Watch after Gale for me." I commanded. "And take care of Koel and Ruby as much as you can. You know how my Ma is..." I gulped, fearful for someone else besides myself for once since the Reaping. Would my mother refuse to function if Brant and I died? Surely she would still go on if Brant survived, but, if he didn't….

"You know I will," Madge hugged me again, suffocating me slightly.

"And make sure Gale's not watching when I—" I cut off, not able to say such harsh things in front of Madge. She was as innocent as a child.

"I will," She said in a small voice. "Goodbye, Rixa." At least she wasn't so delusional as to hope for my return.

"Goodbye, Madge." I answered, bringing her in for another hug before the impatient Peacekeeper came in and personally escorted Madge out.

I waited for my mother to come in with the twins but Madge and Gale were my only visitors. With two of her children in the Games she had to make a choice of who she wanted to win more. Obviously, she had decided upon Brant. He was her favorite child. I used to be until I left for the Capitol and left my mother to care for her children by herself. How disappointing I must be to her.

It was a low blow but I guessed I understood her reasoning in some sick, twisted way. But, this pain only gave me an idea. I couldn't win but surely Brant had some chance, even with career tributes in the mix. I had decided in my last few minutes in the room to do everything I could to make sure Brant won. I wouldn't cry with people present and I would use my Capitol contacts to get sponsors. I could easily play off my scene during the Reaping as my strategy: act weak and pathetic and no one will bother to go after you until the end. A girl a few years back, Johanna Mason from District 7, had used the strategy and she had won. She also turned out to be a merciless killer—which I wasn't—but maybe being in the arena changed you, made you something you weren't.

I felt better about things after having a plan. Dying didn't seem so bad now that I had a purpose. I was going to get Brant as far as I could and hopefully he would do the rest with the sponsors and supplies I got him.

A chubby female Peacekeeper opened the door this time, telling me it was time to go. I put on a terrified face (not exactly hard for me at the moment) for the cameras and was dragged out of the room. We walked back down the dark hall, passing by several closed doors. I wondered where they had taken Brant and who had visited him, who had said their goodbyes.

Within moments, we were back outside the Justice Building. The square had cleared out. Peacekeepers were done disassembling all the cameras and fancy equipment they had put up for the ceremony. The Peacekeepers in charge of me stopped on the stage, waiting for something.

Before I had a chance to ask them what was the hold up, Brant came bursting out the wooden doors with Peacekeepers of his own.

"Rixa," He cried, bringing me into a tight hug. "Rixa," He said again as if I wasn't really there. "It's going to be okay."

I tried to smile, to reassure him I wasn't catatonic, but the muscles in my face seemed to have become paralyzed. Instead, I grabbed his hand as the Peacekeepers lead us into a car that would take us to the train station.

It was a short journey and I quietly thought how cruel it was that Brant's first time in a car would be his last. But I couldn't think like that, not if I wanted Brant to win. The train that took me to District 12 was still waiting in the station. I guessed since I was a tribute they didn't bother sending another one out. We could just use mine.

The station was swarming with reporters and cameras trying to get a look at the brother-sister tributes. I already knew that we'd be the talk of the Capitol. How tragic our story must be. It will at least give them a good show which could in turn give us more sponsors.

I don't stop the tears that well up in my eyes. They're real but that didn't mean I wasn't using them to play at people's emotions. I held on to Brant's hand for dear life. The equipment the Peacekeepers had removed from the square was currently residing at the train station, airing our arrival live. I tried not to look at the television screen but it was so large that it was impossible not to notice.

My terrified, trembling frame was plastered on the large screen. My usually beautiful face was red and blotchy with tears streaming uncontrollably down it. My black eyes were tinted with red, ugly bags sat underneath them. It was a terrible and pathetic sight, especially when I stood next to Brant who seemed so brave, so dangerous. His pale face was void of all emotion; his muscles, from his days of working hard to keep our family safe, bulged. He could win this. I knew he could.

They made us linger in front of the doorway so the cameras could get a better shot of the wreck of a sister and strong tribute brother. Once we were allowed inside I ran down the familiar hallway and shut myself off in my room for a good cry. As I wept, I made a promise to myself that I had to get it all out now. Once I left this room, I would be strong for my brother. I had my plan and I was determined to make it work. No one would ever see me cry again.

After I cried every ounce of water left in my body, I stripped myself of my sticky clothing and took a nice, long hot shower. I wasn't sure how long I had stayed in it, but I was a pruney mess once I was done. I shut off the tap and stepped out into the steamy room. Putting myself in one of the Capitol's helpful contraptions, my hair was dried within seconds. I put my hair up in a bun to keep it out of my face. The drawers are still filled with my clothes. I picked out a pale pink colored dress and placed it on my body. My feet were freezing so I grabbed a pair of socks from the bottom drawer.

I picked up the dress I had worn to the Reaping. It was still white and ruffling and clean, but it felt tainted to me. It was cursed. Just as I was about to throw it away, I noticed the pin Madge had given me. The mocking-jay. I was tempted to throw it out with my dress but I knew that would upset Madge. She would be looking for it when they televised the Games. I unclipped it from my dress and placeed it in my pocket for safe keeping. Then, I opened the waste chute and chucked the cursed dress down it.

There was a knock at my door. Effie had come to grab me for supper. I follow her down the halls, waiting for her to speak, to apologize for something she had no hand it. Well, actually she did have a large hand in all of this. She was the one who pulled out our names. I couldn't image the guilt she must feel. I didn't think she had ever felt guilty for sending children to their deaths before now. Knowing the tributes personally changes the game. It's no fun when you lose people you love. Maybe these Games would show the Capitol that. Maybe I could change things.

It was unlikely. The Games had been going on for seventy-four years now. I was sure that there had been terribly heart wrenching stories before me, I just couldn't remember them all. But still, I somehow felt bad for Effie. These Games were taking their toll on her. She wasn't happily chirping away like she usually was and I felt like_ I_ had to say something.

"I don't blame you," I croaked, my voice weak from lack of use, my throat dry from crying.

Effie looked like she was going to burst into tears. She nodded, probably not feeling any better, maybe even a little worse. She opened the door to the dining hall and I saw that I was the last to arrive. Brant was striking up conversation with our mentors but the chatter ceased as I entered the room. My eyes surveyed the dining room until I caught Peeta's eye. I immediately looked away, not wanting to see how this was affecting him. Maybe this would solve a problem for us. When I died, he and Katniss were free to live long happy lives together, no longer plagued by the girl he used to love.

Brant stood up, "Rix," He pulled out the chair next to him for me.

I smiled the best I could, though I'm sure it was more of a grimace. "Hey, bro,"

We all sat down, eating our food in silence. I only played with mine, not feeling hungry in the slightest.

"Rixa," I heard Peeta's voice plead, "You need to eat." I felt my face heat up. I wanted to hit him for speaking to me, for pretending he cared about whether or not I ate. What did these meals matter anyway? I would be dead in a few days time.

I still refused to eat. Brant put a hand on my shoulder and kindly said, "You need to eat, to keep your strength up." I looked him in the eyes. They were so sad and desperate, like I'm mine were.

He was right. I needed to keep my strength up. To save him.

So I ate, and I ate and I ate until I was sick. "Happy?" I asked feeling bloated. Brant rolled his eyes as we all finished up. It was time to watch the recap of the Reapings. To see who our competition would be.

We made our way to the next compartment where the television resided. One by one we watched other children being called onto the stage to most likely die. I watched, determined to find Brant's competition and help him with a strategy.

Districts 1, 2, and 4 had a few volunteer, careers begging to take other children's place. Most of the men are monstrous and intimidating but they're built for strength, not brains or strategy. They killed before they thought and that was where Brant had the advantage. The boy from District 1 looked particularly brutal. He volunteered before they even asked and sprinted to the stage, ready to kill someone as if he was already in the arena.

"You could take them." I muttered quietly to Brant. He glanced over at me with an exasperatedly expression before turning his focus back to the television.

The names kept being called but no one else was volunteering outside of the career districts. I found myself admiring Katniss greatly, but seeing her sitting next to Peeta drowned it out. There was a red haired girl from District 5 who looked like she could have been related to last year's tribute.

A tiny boy from District 7, no more than eleven, was called to the stage. He had curly brown locks and dark eyes, reminding me horribly of Koel. I let out an involuntary whimper as he walked, determined not to show any emotion. Even an eleven year old had more strength than me. This only proved I was a lost cause. I caught a glimpse of Haymitch's expression and I could tell he was secretly thinking the same thing. I could get Haymitch to help me with my plan. He'd be more than happy to if he could at least save one of us.

There was a dark skinned, mildly surprised boy from District 11. He looked shocked that he had been called but took the stage casually. No one volunteered for him either. Then District 12 was shown. Effie stumbled over my name and I walked slowly onto the stage, looking haunted. Before Brant was called I had seemed so calm, so void of emotion like Brant had been and the other tributes. But once his name was called, all hell broke loose. It seemed to have happened so fast. I was on my knees, screaming dementedly for volunteers. It was so quiet that it only made my scene worse. The citizens of District 12 looked guilty and pained, but, still, no one volunteered. And once Brant was on the stage I disappeared within seconds, thrashing and screaming. I felt truly embarrassed watching this now.

The camera didn't shut off like it had with the other districts. It panned the crowd, wanting reactions. Many were crying, others looked ill or guilty. Then the stage was hit and I got a look at Peeta for the first time in ages. He looked the worse of them all. Peeta's blonde hair was neatly combed back and he was wearing a nice suit. His fingers were clenched tightly, his large blue eyes bulging in anger. I felt like crying again but I promised myself I wouldn't. Peeta looked like he wanted to hit someone, like Gale had. The camera stayed on him until he stormed off the stage, his blue eyes rimmed with red like he was about to cry. That was going to take some serious explaining. No doubt the Games interviewer and commentator, Caesar Flickerman, would want me to talk about it. The commentators were having a heyday, wondering aloud why a victor would have such an unusual reaction to a simple reaping. They went on about how sad this all was. They spoke about how I worked at the Capitol and they couldn't believe this had happened to me. I was going to hear a lot of that as soon as we hit the Capitol.

I chanced a glance at Peeta, hoping he was still staring at the television like the others, but he was staring straight at me. He seemed genuinely upset about all this. His pale blue eyes shimmered with wetness but I just glared at him. Didn't Peeta realize what he had done? The mess he had created for me? I already had enough to deal with without him making a scene at the Reaping.

I hated Peeta Mellark. My life would have been so much simpler without him. I could be with Gale by now. Maybe, but most likely not. I liked to think that, to have a reason to hate Peeta besides what happened months ago. I should be over it by now, but I wasn't. Because I was pathetic, because I was weak. Peeta was the opposite of me, like Katniss. And that's why I wasn't going to win and that's why Peeta did.


	6. The Mentor

Effie knocked on my door, waking me up, "Up, up, up! It's going to be a big, big, big day!" I guessed her coping mechanism was pretending the Reaping never happened, that I was just another lamb headed for the slaughter. Nobody she knew. I decided I would play along. She was so fragile. There was no point in caring; I would be gone soon anyway.

Once again, everyone was already at breakfast before me. I took the same seat as yesterday only it was Peeta I was sitting next to, not Brant.

"We'll be arriving at the Capitol in a few hours." Katniss told me. I nodded, piling food that I probably wasn't going to eat onto my china glass plate. Katniss wasn't done speaking, though, "We're going to start mentoring, too."

I looked up at my three companions. "Okay." I said. I had thought about this last night after watching the recaps. "I'll go with Haymitch. Brant can have you and Peeta."

"No," Peeta said immediately. I turned and glared at him.

"I don't think you get a say." I told him harshly. "I want Haymitch." I looked up at the eldest mentor. He raised a glass of what I was sure was wine and nodded.

"Whatever the little lady wants." He had been around dozens of tributes over the years since he'd won. I'm sure he could tell by the look in my eyes I didn't want any mentoring. Maybe that made his job easier. If I didn't try, he couldn't feel guilty about my death.

"I think we should have a group decision." Katniss tried reasoning, "Or we could mentor you together?" She was being reasonable but I wanted to be stubborn. I had made my choice; they were going to have to live with it.

"Rixa," Brant warned. His eyes told me to play nice. And I was. I hadn't screamed or tore off anyone's face since we arrived. I think I was doing pretty well considering.

"I've made my decision, Brant. Please accept it. I'm trying to help you here, too." I pleaded. Under my desperate gaze he broke down.

"Okay…" He sighed.

"Brant, I think it would be better if we stuck together and tried to—" Peeta tried.

"She's made her decision, Peeta. Respect it." Brant snapped. Peeta glared out the train window, but with how fast we were going he couldn't have been looking at anything but the past. I couldn't help but feel a little guilty. Peeta and Brant had been friends and I was the reason they stopped talking, the reason they were at each others throats.

"Okay," Katniss spoke up, "We train you separately. We should get started now and go over training and public appearances." She finished unsurely. All the glamour of the Capitol made her uncomfortable. Katniss preferred the woods and solitary over the Capitol and fame.

I stood up and made my way to the liquor cabinet. I pulled out a bottle with clear liquid in it and looked at Haymitch expectantly, "Well, come on. Let's get me mentored." I shook the bottle and Peeta and Brant looked horrified at what I was insinuating. Katniss didn't know whether to laugh or look on at me with disapproval. Haymitch, however, decided to look on the brighter side of things. He let out a high pitch cackle that even made me crack a smile.

"Come on, sweetheart." He stood up abruptly, grabbing the bottle from me. "Let's get you mentored."

He led the way to a compartment two away from the one I slept in. It had a television and two comfortably plush chairs. He plopped himself down, letting out a sound of content and popped the lid of the liquor. Grabbing a glass that had been sitting there since last night when he was probably in here getting drunk per usual, he poured himself a generous amount and then chucked the bottle at me. I got it easily and drank straight from the bottle.

"Whoa there, sweetheart," Haymitch chuckled, "I don't want your brother to catch me getting you drunk."

I shrugged, staring at the black television screen. "What does it matter? I won't live for him to scold me for it."

Haymitch stared at me, swirling around his glass, sizing me up. "So, you're not even going to try to win?"

"I don't want to." I said simply.

"You're an idiot."

I snorted, taking another swig. "Thanks. I think I'll win for sure now."

Haymitch smirked, downing his glass. "Gimme," I tossed the bottle back at him. I leaned back in the chair, making myself more at home. "I guess this makes my job easier."

"I figured after years of trying unsuccessfully to mentor loss causes, I'd give you a break." I said casually.

He snorted, staring at the bottle. His smile slowly faded away. He was probably being horribly reminded of those poor tributes he couldn't save. "So, you're just being considerate?" He asked, not bothering to look at me.

"You could call it that." I rubbed my face tiredly, "I call it strategizing. It makes the blow hurt less."

"And what blow is that?" He questioned nonchalantly.

I took in a deep breath before I began my long thought process, "Two tributes come onto this train. Only one can win. You probably went through your first years trying your hardest to get your tributes out alive. But, no matter what you did, they never won—never even made it out of the initial bloodbath. I believe there was a time when you weren't a drunken mess, when you cared for the tributes, maybe even a little too much. But those times are gone now. Two tributes walk on this train and you know exactly who you're going to put all your energy into." I pulled a piece of lint off my shirt and flung it away, "And between Brant and me it doesn't take a genius to know who you want. The catatonic Capitol citizen or the strong, skilled tribute? My bets on Brant but since I'm a dead man walking, I don't have much need for betting."

Haymitch gazed at me, squinting his eyes as if he was unsure if I was real or not. "Well, I can honestly say in the twenty-four years I've been doing this, you, sweetheart, are a first."

"I pride myself on that fact." I commented, resting my eyes.

"But, that's exactly why I would have picked you to train."

I sat up again, staring at Haymitch. "Why? Did you watch my Reaping? I was a wreck! What do you think I'm going to do the second I get into that arena? What kind of a threat could I possible to that career from District 1 or even that _child_ from District 7?" I laughed darkly. "You're off your rocker."

"Maybe," He shrugged, "But the fact that you're so willing to die on the slim chance that your brother—who doesn't have much in the way of skill sets besides his strength—will survive and become victor, makes you the tribute I would bet on." I stared Haymitch down, unsure whether he was joking with me or not.

"Well, I've already made my choice. Brant's the tribute we train." I said stubbornly.

"And what's that golden brother of yours got to say on this?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow on his smug face.

"He doesn't have a say. I just told you, I made my—"

"You know what I think?" Haymitch cut me off unexpectedly. "I think Brants in there with Peeta and Katniss right now, pleading them to save you, to make you the tribute we train."

I swallowed, knowing this was probably true. "It won't work. Peeta and Katniss know he's the better tribute. Peeta knows me. He knows I'm useless."

Haymitch chortled. "Darlin', Peeta spent the entire evening begging us to help you, not Brant."

My eyes widened in shock, "Why would he do that? He and Brant used to be best friends!"

"And you used to be lovers," Haymitch said knowingly, "Which do you think trumps the other?"

"That's beside the point," I stuttered, my face heating up. Who else knew about Peeta and me? "I'm telling you to choose Brant. I swear I'll just run right into the bloodbath at the cornucopia the first day and off myself so you have no choice then to choose Brant!" I threatened.

Haymitch shook his head, "So, what do you suppose I do with you during these 'training' sessions?"

"Train me to last as long as I can to help Brant win." I proposed.

He tilted his head, drinking some more alcohol. He swished it around in his mouth, mulling this over. We sat in silence for a few moments. I waited patiently for Haymitch's response. "Okay." He agreed. I sighed with relief.

_Finally_ I thought, _we're getting somewhere._

"But," Haymitch went on. There was always a 'but'.

I glanced at my mentor expectedly. "What is this going to cost me?"

"You forgive Peeta." He said. I had to admit, I was put off guard. That was the last thing I thought he would ask me. I figured he wanted some expensive, fancy Capitol wine. But, no. He wanted my forgiveness.

"What?" I wasn't sure why that was the word that had come out of my mouth. I had heard Haymitch fine.

"If you want my help, you have to forgive Peeta." He repeated sweetly. "I understand that you had a falling out during the Games last year. Peeta told me all about you on the train. He hoped that one day you would understand what he did to protect you, but, you apparently don't have as many days left as he would have liked. That boy has been living with the guilt of you for months and I don't think I could let him live knowing he would carry it around with him the rest of his sad, sorry life." Haymitch told me, "So, in exchange for my much needed help and expertise in the Games, you forgive him. You pretend like it never happened and you live your last days being Peeta's friend. At least give the poor boy something to hold onto while he watches you die." He finished exasperated.

I sat in my chair for a couple minutes, blown away by Haymitch's uncharacteristically heartfelt speech. From everything I'd heard about him, he didn't seem like the friendly type, the one who cared about anyone but himself. I guessed there was a lot about Haymitch that only he and maybe Katniss and Peeta knew, too.

"How long have you been sitting on that little speech?" I asked mildly, still trying to comprehend what had just happened.

"Since Peeta stormed off the stage and I realized you were the girl he had been broken up over for months." He answered taking another sip of his drink.

I was confused. What would Peeta be broken up over? The fact that I didn't want to remain friends after he broke my heart? Technically we never broke up but we didn't have to say the words directly; especially now that he was getting married to Katniss, who had taken my place in his heart.

But, what kind of person would I be if I forced Peeta to live with what he had done? Surely he felt bad, but the damage had been done. It was irreversible. I was finding that I was spending more time trying to make other people feel better about my situation then they were mine. But, it didn't matter. Maybe I could pretend that Katniss had never stolen Peeta away, just for a little while. Just until I died.

"Okay," I agreed. Haymitch glanced lazily over at me as if he knew I would say yes all along. He stood up and stretched out his tall body. He shook his shaggy blonde hair out of his eyes and gulped the rest of the bottle in his hand.

"Good training session." He sighed, "You've got interviews with Effie after lunch. We'll talk more once we get to the Capitol."

And with that, Haymitch disappeared, leaving me to try to find a way to forgive Peeta without it sounding forced or fake. Agreeing to play nice was easy; acting it out was the hard part.


	7. The Promise

I was the first one in the dining room this time. It felt strange to be on time for things now when I had such little time left. Time was meaningless until you were running out of it. Now, I found myself unconsciously counting down, as if my internal clock knew what was coming as well.

A blonde Avox boy came by and served me my food. Some delicious meaty soup. I picked at it until the rest of my companions filed in. None of them looked particularly happy while I held a small smile on my face.

"Have a good mentoring?" I asked as Brant slumped in his chair.

"It was fine." He mumbled darkly. It looked like someone wasn't getting what they wanted. I bit back a smug grin but caught Peeta gazing at me, worried and frustrated. I glanced back down at my food and we ate in silence for a few moments. Brant sighed, giving up on his pity party and started up conversation.

"They couldn't have kept us in a bleaker place to say our goodbyes, could they?" Brant joked mildly.

I shook my head, remembering the Justice Building in District 12. "Makes it more dramatic I suppose." I slurped on the soup in front of me.

"Who came and visited you?" He asked in such a casual voice that he might have just been asking about the weather.

I suddenly wasn't in the talking mood. Gale had come to visit me, Brant had to know that. But, I didn't exactly want to talk about it, especially not in front of Katniss.

"Madge came." I said shortly. Brant looked at me, expecting a little more. "She gave me a token to take into the arena." As soon as I uttered the words, I regretted them. I felt embarrassed to have the same token as Katniss. I didn't want anyone to get the idea that I was trying to copy her, to _be_ her. I didn't want Peeta to infer that and he surely would see it as a pathetic stab at getting him back. But, it wasn't.

"Really?" Katniss smiled kindly, "She gave me mine as well. What's yours?"

I thought fast about what other tributes had brought into the arena. I didn't want to see her face when she found out my token was the sister of hers. She would laugh, most likely. And I wanted to be in the arena before they knew what my token was another mocking-jay pin. "A ribbon." I said lamely.

Madge was known for always wearing a ribbon in her hair. They couldn't dispute me, really. But, the look on Peeta's face told me that he could tell I was liar. He could always see right through me. That was one of the things I loved most about him. I could lie to the world through my teeth when all I wanted was to curl up and die and Peeta would know. He would know how much I was hurting and he would just hold me and promise things would get better. He was as big of a liar as I was.

"Madge came to see me as well." Brant smiled lightly, his eyes seemed distant. I looked at Brant strangely.

"Did she give you a ribbon, too?" I joked.

He shook his head, "Well, not exactly. She gave me a token, but not the kind you can wear."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Peeta questioned, looking at Brant suspiciously.

"She—she—" He seemed a bit embarrassed and sad at the same time, "She kissed me."

I began to choke on the hot liquid that was caught it my throat. "Madge _kissed_ you?" I wheezed. I always knew she had a thing for Brant but never thought she'd act on it. I guess leaving for the Games is as good a time as any.

"Yeah," He breathed as if he was still unsure himself.

"Well, we'll have to make sure we get you back to your lover." I meant it as a joke but it caused the room to go deathly silent. Brant glared at me, furious at my comment.

"So, what did Gale have to say?" Brant questioned, knowing I didn't want to talk about it. He was punishing me for my comment. I had already said goodbye to Gale, I didn't want to think about him anymore.

"Nothing." I said harshly.

"Did he kiss you, too?" Brant pursed his lips, "Confess his love for you?"

"Shut up, Brant," My voice raised in distress. I was well aware that Peeta and Katniss were nosily intruding on our private conversation.

"Did he?" Brant prodded. He had, yes. But not the way Brant was insinuating. He kissed me friendly on the forehead like Brant would do; his love for me was the same as mine for Brant or Finnick.

"It's not what you think." I hissed. I caught Katniss glancing mournfully out the window. Brant was being an ass. He was not only hurting us but Katniss as well. I knew she missed Gale and it was no use reopening that wound. Peeta's face was growing red but he pretended to find his glass cup very interesting all of the sudden.

"He loves you like Madge does me. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't send you home to him?" Brant muttered darkly.

"Yeah, because Madge isn't my friend so I don't care how badly she's hurt over your death." I seethed, slamming my hand on the table. "Stop this, Brant! It's no use! Gale and I will only be just friends. You and Madge could be so much more!"

"You can be more, too, when I get you home." But I wasn't coming home.

I didn't say that, of course. I didn't want to keep fighting with Brant when we had so little time together. Also, I didn't want my private business being thrown about with Katniss and Peeta present. I didn't want to talk about my old life, about Madge and her mocking-jay pin, about what Gale and I could have been, about what Peeta and I _had_ been. I didn't want to talk about dad or Jay or how Ma didn't bring the twins to say goodbye. None of it! It was too painful.

But as if Brant could read my mind, he brought up the thing that haunted me the most "What did Ma tell you?" Brant asked suddenly.

I furrowed my brow, my spoon of food halted mid-bite, closing my eyes. "What?"

"Ma," He repeated, "What did she say when she came to say goodbye?"

I remembered how I had foolishly waited the remainder of my time in the Justice Building for the visit that would never come. Sickness filled my throat and suddenly my appetite vanished. "She, uh, wished me luck." I avoided his gaze.

I heard Brant's fork clatter to the floor. I glanced up and saw Katniss and Peeta peering at Brant, bewildered. Brant looked horrified, his mouth gaping open.

"She—she didn't come see you, did she?" His voice was small and confused. There was no point in lying.

"No," I said, my voice filled with hatred momentarily. "Must have slipped her mind."

Katniss let out an involuntary gasp. A nasty _crunch_ filled the air. Peeta—who had been drinking from his interesting glass—was suddenly drenched in water, blood covered his hand. He had somehow managed to break the glass with his grip. My eyes widened at the sight of blood—feeling a bit woozy—but I shot up immediately and grabbed a towel, covering his hand.

I dabbed it lightly, my mind elsewhere as I tended to Peeta almost mechanically. I thought of a time—a few days before the Reaping—when Peeta had accidentally cut himself with a knife, cutting bread at the bakery. He had laughed at his clumsiness, looking at me so lovingly at that moment like Katniss Everdeen would never come and rip this apart. I could still feel his lips on mine as he thanked me.

It took me a few moments to realize where I was. But, once it did, it hit me full force. I had refused to let myself remember those happy times with Peeta, times where the world seemed to melt away and we were the only people alive, so blissfully in love. But, we were sixteen. What did we know anyway?

I could feel those wretched tears coming and I excused myself. I heard Peeta's voice call after me but my feet automatically took me to my room as my brain tried to override itself with images of Gale teaching me to use a bow (though, not on living things) or Finnick cracking a stupid joke. But, it didn't work. In fact, it made it worse. I found myself biting a hole through my lip, trying to stop the tears. I was mildly successful, but now blood dripped steadily down my face.

I sniffed, rummaging through my drawers, looking desperately for a towel. It was like the only towel on the entire train was the one with Peeta. I whimpered at the pain that throbbed in my lip until a towel popped into my view. A clean towel with a large hand clasping it.

"Here," His voice said quietly. He tried to place it on my lip but I snatched it away, feeling angry at him for almost making me cry. Peeta stepped back, flinching. "Sorry." He muttered.

I placed the cloth on my lip, feeling guilty for snapping at him. I remembered what Haymitch had told me. If I wanted help to get Brant to win, I had to apologize. And here I was, standing alone with Peeta for the first time in a year. This was the first conversation we'd had since the Justice Building last year. Now was as good a time as any to make good on my deal. I just hoped I could hold up my end of the bargain. But, what was the use feeling so angry at Peeta anymore? There was no use. I would be dead and the silent treatment wouldn't save Brant.

"No," I cleared my throat, "I'm sorry."

Peeta glanced at me with a confused expression on his beautiful face. He opened his mouth to ask something but I turned away and sat down on the window sill, watching the country of Panem flash by as we rapidly approached the Capitol.

It took him a few moments to decide whether or not to take a seat next to me. When he felt it was safe, he hesitantly sat down, a little too close for my liking. I tried to scoot away discreetly but he knew what I was doing. I could see him trying to mask the hurt as he scooted back a bit as well.

We sat in silence, trying to decide how best to go about this. What do you say after a year of silence? What words could possibly repair the damage of years of friendship—of love—gone, all because of the simple, seemingly harmless words Peeta had uttered in his interview. Nothing. Nothing could really fix it. But, we had to at least try.

"When my parents came to visit me in the Justice Building after you," Peeta started, making sure to avoid my eye, "They told me that District 12 could finally have a victor."

"Congrats. Your family believed you could win." My voice void of emotion, "I told you the same thing, remember?"

Peeta nodded, "I remember everything you said. But, my mom wasn't talking about me."

I looked up at Peeta, shocked. His mom could be heartless and cold but that was just cruel. But, how different was it than what my mother had done? That must have been why he as telling me, he was sympathizing with my pain. I felt anger flash through me. Peeta could never understand how I felt. He was going to live a long, happy life with Katniss. My was short and full of pain.

"I'm sorry." I said again, trying to make it sound more heartfelt than it felt.

"No, you're not." He said calmly. "But, I don't expect you to be. How could I expect you to feel an ounce of sympathy after what you've been through, after what I've put you through?"

I pulled at a loose string on my dress. Pleasantries were over. The real talk was about to begin.

I was hit with a horrible realization as he sniffed loudly. Peeta Mellark was crying. How dare he have the nerve to cry in front of me! Everything he did only made it that much harder to forgive him. I wanted to tell him to shut up, to be a man! But, Haymitch's irritated face flashed in my mind.

"I'm so sorry, Rix," A tear fell on the window sill as he made to grab my hand. I pulled it away abruptly, being horribly reminded of Gale as he held my hand for the last time in the Justice Building. Gale who would soon be all alone in District 12. But, that wasn't true. He had Madge and Rory and Posy and his mother and everyone else in District 12. He would never be truly alone. Once I was gone, he could get over what happened with Katniss. I must be a reminder to him of the events at the Games, how we lost our loves. Maybe my death would be a good thing for him.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as Peeta went on, wiping his tears fervently. "I can't even begin to image what it was like for you. Back home, watching it without knowing what was really going on. Worried, terrified, knowing you couldn't do anything to help. And I just sat up there, sweet talking the crowd, playing the star-crossed lovers card," He barked out a dark laugh, his eyes alight with anger. "But, I thought of you every second I said those things about Katniss."

My breath caught in my throat. Why would he say something that horrible to me? "Good to know I was in the back of your mind when you confessed your love to Katniss and the Capitol." I sneered.

Peeta gasped, "It wasn't like that, Rix! It was never like that!"

I pulled my knees into my chest as if to lock my heart up. "We can't fix this, Peeta." I sighed, feeling exhausted from the year of radio silence, of heartache, of desertion. "I thought that maybe one day I could forgive you—but we're out of time."

Peeta looked at me desperately with his large blue eyes. "Rixa, _please_—"

"I need you to understand that I won't be coming back." I interrupted. The serious look on my face clearly told him not to argue this. "That being said, we need to move on. At least, I do, for the remainder of my days. And I can't give you the satisfaction of total and complete forgiveness. All I can give you is a promise. A promise that you'll be happier when I'm gone, that I'll be in better place where I _can_ forgive you." I stated, closing my eyes briefly as a clear memory forced its way up into my mind, something that would help both of us, "Maybe one day you'll be in the bakery, staring at that huge black scorch mark where I almost set fire to that damn building, and know that you've been truly forgiven. But, that's the best I can give you right now, Peeta. And I'm sorry I can't give you anything more." I let out a deep breath and felt a weight lifted off my shoulders. It wasn't much but this was a start. The start of the end of our relationship.

Peeta nodded, biting back his retorts and disapproval of my plan not to come back. He didn't want to let this small bit a peace fall away. I was dangling a small life line tauntingly in front of this face; he couldn't let it slip away as easily as he let me. "That's all I deserve at this point." He said in a low, calm voice. "I'll stare at that spot everyday, waiting for you."

I allowed myself to smile lightly at him, to reach out and touch his hand. Peeta gripped it tightly as if I would take my peace offering back when he released it. We sat like that for a long time. It felt nice, being close to Peeta again. But, I knew it wouldn't last. Nothing ever did.

Peace, love, life. Eventually something would come along and mess it all up.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>_Sorry for the delay. Hope this makes up for it? (:_

_Keep reviewing and stuff. It makes me a happy writer._


	8. The Arrival

"We're here," Were the first words that fell from my lips. The train had just appeared out of a tunnel and the Capitol was sitting before us. The gorgeous blue lake surrounded the great city and the glory of the Capitol reflected on its sparkling waters. Towering marble buildings filled the city, giving it the slight impression of heaven on earth in the direct sunlight. It was a beautiful place in all honesty. But it also held some of the wickedest people in the world.

Peeta grunted; his eyes wide as we approached the Capitol. I could see the fear. He had no fond memories of this place. He was sent here to die and somehow survived. It must be strange for him to be here now. I had taken this place's beauty for granted.

"It's time to go." Peeta muttered, releasing my hand reluctantly. I stretched out my cramped appendage. I followed Peeta out of my room and we met up with everyone in the main entrance where we had entered the train. Brant was staring out the square window, mesmerized by the beauty of the Capitol. I had forgotten he'd never seen it before.

"It's…_beautiful_." Brant breathed, touching the window lightly. I smiled, leaning against his shoulder, taking in the scene of the Capitol with my brother.

As we slowed down, hundreds of Capitol citizens came into view. They covered the platform and square like rainbow colored ants. Their eyes trained on us as we lurched to a stop. I could tell Brant was beside himself with nerves. I nudged him lightly, giving him an encouraging smile. This was my territory. I could get us through this part easily.

The doors slid open and I whispered, "Just follow my lead."

The second we exited the doors, we were bombarded by screams and cheers and chants. The mad crowd rippled with radical colors as they tried to get a better look at the Capitol citizen and her brother tribute. I stepped off the train, careful in my heels, when a tall, slender red head was suddenly latched on top of my body.

"Oceilia?" I breathed as she crushed me in her embrace. She was shaking and when I pushed her back a bit, I realized how much of a wreck she really was. Her makeup was trailing darkly down her large cheeks; large bags—not bothered to be covered by powder—were prominent on her thin face. Her usually pink face was blotchy and red, not unlike mine had been yesterday. _"Oceilia."_ I tried again only to receive a small whimper from my friend. She wrapped her arms tightly around me and I allowed the hug. "It's okay, Oceilia. _It's okay_."

"Rixa," She wailed loudly in my ear. I winced and pulled her back, shaking her lightly.

"Ceil, I need you to get a hold of yourself! I need your help if you want us to have a chance of coming out alive." I told her sternly, wiping a few tears off her puffy face with my sleeve. She stifled a sob and nodded obediently. "I need you to tell everyone that what happened at the Reaping was all part of my strategy: seem weak and no one will go after me until the end. Do you understand, Ceil?" I had to ask her again before she nodded fervently. I gave her another hug and sent her off to do what she did best: gossip.

I hadn't realized that the others had been waiting dutifully by my side during my interaction with Oceilia. I smiled apologetically and began the long walk through the crowd to the Training Center. I greeted everyone warmly when all I really wanted to do was scream at them for acting like this was normal. Like cheering me on to my death and the death of innocent children was something to get excited about. I had never hated the Capitol more than I did today.

_"Thank you,"_ I smiled warmly at everyone, letting them kiss my cheeks or grip my hand. They congratulated me and wished me luck. Brant did as I said. He smiled at everyone and let them touch him (though I could see uncomfortable this made him). I was used to the attention, the touching. Brant had just had his first kiss yesterday.

"Don't forget to sponsor us!" I called out, laughing at their madly grinning faces. I complimented them and shook their hands and it felt like we would never reach the Training Center when I saw him. With his sea green eyes downcast and his bronze colored hair disheveled, he stood only a few feet from where I'd seen him last. "Finn…" I muttered before running full speed ahead toward Finnick Odair.

He caught me easily, unwavering, as if I had pulled him in lightly instead of thrusting my body at him. Finnick's strong grasp held around me tightly, no sign of letting me go anytime soon. The screams renewed when the women realized Finnick Odair was in their presence. The big charming ladies man: Finnick Odair. I could image how scandalous this looked. The Capitol's favorite victor and citizen, together, embracing warmly. The rumors would spread like wild fire.

Finnick pulled apart from me reluctantly as the cries got more excessive. He waved to his adoring fans and I did the same. He gave them his famous cocky grin and took my hand in his. I smiled like I was the luckiest girl in the world. I was holding Finnick's hand and going to the arena for the ultimate entertainment gig. Life couldn't be sweeter for me according to the Capitol.

I felt Finnick dragging me through the crowd, his hand never leaving mine. With last air kisses and thanks, he pulled me through the stain glass windows and embraced me even tighter. I caught a glimpse of his face in the reflected of the glass and it was unsettling to see a victor of the Games so terrified.

_"Finn,"_ I tried again.

"Rixa," He whispered, "Rixa, I'm so sorry." I just let him hold me, glad that I still had Finnick to count on. He was the only one of my party who didn't have any say over my plan with Brant. He had no control of my life. Finnick had his own tributes to worry about. "Rixa, I—"

_"Don't."_ I said suddenly, a lump rising rapidly in my throat. I wouldn't cry now, not when the world was watching. Not in front of Finnick when he was so fearful of my life.

We didn't have much time for more conversation because the rest of my party burst through the door. Peeta and Brant eyed Finnick dangerously as if he was some sort of threat.

"Peeta, Katniss, Brant," I broke away from Finnick to introduce them, "This is my friend, Finnick." I didn't need to introduce him to Haymitch. They were both mentors, they had known each other since Finnick's first mentored Games.

"It's nice to meet you," Brant said, shaking Finnick's hand a little harder than necessary. "I hope you're treating my sister the way she deserves to be treated."

"Oh, you mean like the whore that she is?" Finnick commented with such a straight face that only Haymitch and I burst out laughing. Katniss looked a little weary of him but the other two were infuriated by this comment.

"What did you just say to her?" Peeta growled, getting in Finnick's face with the help of Brant. Finnick tried to suppress a grin.

"So, this is the _infamous_ Peeta Mellark?" Finnick grinned politely (though I could practically cut the tension between them all with a knife).

"Yes, this is Peeta." I sighed, standing in between them before they did something stupid. "Now that you've all made this as awkward as possible, we need to get you pretty." I told Brant.

Brant looked bewildered and offended, "I'm a beautiful man, Rix. I don't need makeup and hair dye." I snorted and told Peeta to send him off to Portia. Peeta seemed hesitant to leave me alone with Finnick.

"Let's go get me something to drink, sweetheart." Haymitch decided loudly to Katniss. She nodded immediately, knowing she was intruding on something between Finnick and me.

"Cinna will be waiting for you in the dressing area. It's on the third sublevel." Katniss alerted me. I nodded thankfully as her and my mentor disappeared, dragging Peeta and Brant along with them.

I was suddenly wishing they hadn't left. I didn't trust myself not to break down in front of Finnick. He wouldn't judge me; he had seen me at some of my toughest moments. But I had made that stupid promise to myself and couldn't give up now.

"You shouldn't say things like that to Brant. Or Peeta. They're delicate." I muttered, crossing my arms.

"Peeta can kiss my—"

"Finn!"

"Whatever. That little heartbreaker shouldn't be looking at you like he was. Mentally undressing my best friend. It's disgusting." Finnick spat angrily.

"Well, think about Brant, then." I sighed, rubbing my arm. "He's sensitive as it is with me dying and all."

Finnick's jaw clenched on his nicely defined face, "Don't talk like that, Rix."

"What? Tell you how it is?" I said truthfully, "You're a victor. Tell me what chance a spoiled, untrained child from an outer district has at winning the title?"

The expression on his face was pained because he knew it was true. "Stranger things have happened."

"Like a Capitol citizen being Reaped?" I asked, glancing up at him. He almost laughed until he remembered this was my life we were making a mockery of.

"We'll find a way. I've got two careers on my hands this year. You and Brant ally with them and you'll have as good a shot as any of the other careers." He said defiantly, obviously having planned this beforehand.

"And how long until they turn on us?" I asked with a level head. "Brant and I are on our own, Finn. The careers would turn on us the second we lose our usefulness or the pool of tributes begins to dry."

"Well, Rixa," Finnick shouted angrily, "I guess you're on your own! It was nice to know you!"

I flinched, the ferocity radiated off his body. "You know as well as I do that I have about as much chance of surviving as that boy from seven."

"I wouldn't count him out just yet." Finnick commented, refusing to look at me. "If you believed in yourself and worked with my tributes you'd stand a chance."

"Yeah, until they stab me in the back. Literally." I told him, annoyed at his stubbornness. "I don't want to fight with you, Finn."

He sighed deeply, looking twenty years older when he looked back at me with his green eyes, swimming with emotion. "Well, I don't want to lose you, Rix. I guess we're both shit out of luck."

A witty retort stuck to the tip of my tongue as crazed fans burst their way through the Training Center. Finnick grabbed my hand again and we took off towards the elevators. Inside the square room, he pressed the white button that read_ S3_, lighting it up red. Finnick grabbed my face lightly and kissed me on the forehead like he had only three nights ago.

I placed my hands on his wrists, keeping his cool hands on my warm face. I opened my eyes as he slipped away and the steel elevator doors clanged shut, Finnick disappearing from my view.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>_Going to see the Hunger Games again. YEEEEEEE! (:_

_I'll probably come home with renewed inspiration and finish this story by tonight! But most likely not. If only..._


	9. The Capitol's Tribute

The cold elevator began its decent to _S3_. I watched the red number on the top of the elevator flicker, numbers counting down as I neared my destination. Being underground always made me queasy. Ever since Jay's death I hadn't particularly enjoyed being below the earth.

_S3_ popped up with a faint _ding_ and I practically ran from the death trap. Being in a larger area made it a bit easier to breath than a five by five cramped space with iffy ventilation. I took in a deep breath through my nose to calm myself down. As released it, a familiar voice beckoned me.

_"Rixa Hart."_ I glanced up to see my prep team. A man named Flavius with orange corkscrew locks, clad with purple lipstick stood by with scissors in his hand. Two women, called Venia and Octavia, were standing by next to him. Venia had spiked blue hair, gold tattoos lining her brow and Octavia was a plump, young woman with her entire body dyed a light olive shade of green.

They smiled kindly at me, looking me over. A surprisingly satisfied look graced their faces. "Much better than last years." Flavius commented, circling me.

"I don't know what to do with her." Venia sighed contently.

Octavia crossed her arms, smiling, "I guess we should just call Cinna."

They seemed ecstatic by my clean and perfect Capitol appearance but a shade disappointed that they were out of a job this year.

"Damn." Flavius muttered, picking up the glittery touch pad phone.

"You're too pretty for your own good." Octavia joked, starting to pack up her things.

"It's a good thing for you." Venia reassured me as if I was offended by their compliments. "The sponsors will be piling it. Being the prettiest tribute has its advantages."

"Your Capitol status and connections won't hurt either." Octavia nodded.

"Thank you." I told them, used to being showered with compliments by clients. "You're too kind."

"I think we're raised Rixa's self esteem enough, don't you think?" A deep, friendly voice echoed as a pair of metal doors slid open. "We don't want her to get too cocky before she gets to the arena. Looks will only get someone so far."

I could always leave it to Cinna to bring me down to earth. "You sure know how to make a girl feel special." I muttered.

Cinna strode forward, a faint smile on his lips, but his eyes held sadness. He embraced me hand and gave it a squeeze.

"It's good to see you again, Rixa." He said honestly. "I just wish it was under different circumstances."

I nodded as he dismissed my prep team. They showered me with a few more compliments under Cinna's disapproving eye and disappeared behind the same door Cinna had come out of. I took a seat next to the prep chair as Cinna waited until the doors were firmly shut, letting us know we were alone.

It was quiet for a few moments as Cinna walked across the room, opening a white paneled closet to reveal an abundant supply of breath taking dresses. I stood up immediately and made my way to Cinna's expectant form. My hands reached out and touch the silk and expensive cloths. A gasp escaped my thin lips at the beauty of Cinna's creations.

"Do you like them?" He asked, his expression unreadable.

"I love them." I answered, pulling out a short, sparkling red one that had seduction written all over it. "These are amazing, Cinn."

A small smile graced his lips again, "I'm glad you think so highly of my work. I don't think I've ever felt so much pressure to dress you before."

I glanced at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"This is where you need to make an impression. Your outfit needs to be perfect or the effect could be fatal. One unmemorable piece of clothing and you could be forgotten." Cinna sighed, running a hand through his trim black hair. "But, with my tribute being Rixa Hart, my works already half way done. It's seems like I'm cheating."

"What happened to not showering Rixa with compliments?" I poked playfully, "I'm already too cocky for my own good."

Cinna chuckled, tilting his head as pulled through his new designs, "Just thinking aloud. No need to eavesdrop."

I rolled my eyes before getting serious. Cinna was right, I needed to make the perfect impression to get more sponsors and help Brant. "So, what will my impression be?"

Cinna peered over at me, noting that the playfulness was gone now.

"I need something to make me and Brant unforgettable. _No one_ can forget us, Cinna." My tone was desperate.

"You're already an unforgettable woman. The girl from the Capitol who was chosen as the District twelve tribute along with her brother; two extraordinarily beautiful people sent to their deaths. The girl who begged for volunteers, not for herself, but for her brother? No one will forget you anytime soon, Rixa." Cinna told me truthfully. I felt a bit ashamed knowing Cinna had seen that footage of me but he appeared to find me admirable for it.

"I need you to imprint it in their mind forever. Not have them forget me after the next Games." I stated fiercely, fingering the dresses again. "I need to go down in history. For Brant. For my Ma. For the twins and Gale. For you." I glanced over at Cinna, desperate for his magic touch.

"I need you to make me Katniss." It seemed like a strange statement but I doubt anyone would believe I'd said it unless they had witnessed it themselves.

He eyed me thoughtfully. "Katniss, huh?"

"Not _exactly_ like Katniss. But, I need you to do for me what you did for her." I rubbed my temple; feeling stressed all of the sudden. I wasn't sure how to explain this correctly.

"And what did I do for Katniss?" He wondered.

I thought and thought about how to explain Cinna's genius to Cinna himself. I chewed agitatedly on my tongue until the words appeared in my mind. "You gave her an angle that put her over the edge. You made her the Girl on Fire. I need something like that." I told her. "Katniss was the Girl on Fire. Who will I be?" My voice seemed so lost as if I was struggling with my identity instead of a costume idea. It seemed so much bigger than it really was.

Cinna pursed his lips, fluffy my hair a bit, pushing it behind my shoulder. He took in my appearance and pondered what I had said for an agonizingly long amount of time. His expression wasn't happy, but not altogether sad. It was more peaceful. "You are not Katniss."

I furrowed my brows, unsure whether to be thankful or angry. "And?" I crossed my arms.

"So, you are no Girl on Fire."

"I see." Why was Cinna being so unhelpful? Was he trying to hurt me?

"You are something so much more." He uncrossed my arms, lifting up my chin with a small smile. His hands flew to the closet as he pulled out a royal purple dress. It was stunning and long. The hem fell to the floor and rippled out and the straps were thick on one side and thin on the other. A sparkle pattern draped around it, giving you the slight impression of being hypnotized. This was classic Capitol wear, not something that would represent my coal mining district. I gazed at Cinna, perplexed. "You are no ordinary tribute. You are the _Capitol's_ tribute."

Here was my signature. Cinna was a genius. What better way to convince the members of the Capitol to sponsor me but to show them I was one of them!

I grinned widely and gave Cinna a quick kiss on the cheek. "You're _brilliant_, Cinn."

He nodded, holding out the beautiful design, "I hoped you'd like it. I made it with you in mind."

My aching hands took the dress from him and Cinna quickly helped me into it. Next, he pulled out my matching shoes: purple, strappy, and sparkly. I smiled in adoration.

I checked myself in the large, rectangular mirror adjacent to the closet. "It's so beautiful." I murmured, tears threatening to spill from my eyes. I wiped them quickly, turning from my stunning image.

"Let's finish up and get you to your brother. The Tribute Parade will be starting within the hour." Cinna said kindly, ignoring my moment of weakness.

He pulled out his makeup kit and dusted a light layer of powder upon my face, just enough to cover the bags and minor blemishes. The rest of the makeup was dramatic like most Capitol make up was. My lids and under eye were colored in with smokey blacks and purples, my lashes long and intense. Cinna braided one half of my blonde hair back, tying it into a nice bow with the other half. He pinned a pretty rose to the side, filling my nostrils with the sickly sweet scent.

When Cinna finished, he forced me back in front of the mirror and I realized the power that Cinna had over someone's true beauty. Sure, I was pretty, but Cinna knew how to access and perfect my looks and flaws. He was a genius in everyway. I looked as I had felt for a long time, a true Capitol citizen. This was perfect.

"Thank you, Cinna." I whispered, blinking away the happy tears. It was strange to be crying from happiness for once since all I wanted to do was cry in despair. "I'll never be able to repay you." And this was true. What could I do for Cinna that could make up for him saving Brant's life?

"Yes, you can." He answered, his hands squeezes my shoulders tenderly.

"How?" I murmured as the metal doors slid open, Effie bursting through in a hot pink wig and matching fluffy dress and heels to boot.

"Time to go! My, my, my! Don't you look absolutely stunning!" Effie cried, looking me over. I smiled appreciatively in her directed. "It's time go, go, go!" She said again cheerily.

"Okay." I said, holding up my dress a bit so I could walk without ripping it. I followed Effie out the door as she chirped about how gorgeous I looked and the sponsors would be piling in. Before the doors shut behind us, I glanced back at Cinna, asking him the same question I had moments before with just my eyes: _How?_

_"Win."_ He mouthed, giving me a hopeful smile before the metal doors shut and I was back in the elevator being lifted to another floor. To the Tribute Parade.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>_These chapters always feel so long when I write them but when I look back on them on here, they feel like two pages long instead of five or six. Makes me feel like I'm not writing long enough chapters. Gug. Anyways, Tribute Parade next chapter. Then training sessions and the event you've all been waiting for...the interviews! (:_

_Then, of course, the actually Hunger Games begin. But, let's not get ahead of ourselves._

_I just finished the Hunger Games. KkajsfNINaksa. I was bawling my eyes out it was so amazing and fabulous and happy and sad and did I say amazing? When I read a series that good it makes me want to write my own. Maybe one day. I have ideas. But, for now, I'll stick to FanFic._

_I heart reviews. And happy readers (:_


	10. The Tribute Parade

I was whisked down to the bottom level of the Remake Center, which is essentially a gigantic stable. The opening ceremonies were about to start but I couldn't see Brant anywhere. Pairs of tributes were being loaded into chariots pulled by teams of four horses. Ours were a coal black. How very District 12.

Cinna suddenly popped up behind me with a shiny black ribbon. I eyed it apprehensively.

"I heard your token was a ribbon." He said, tying it into the bow that my hair was in. I didn't say anything, not wanting to lie to Cinna. He stepped back taking me in again. "You look beautiful." My eye caught something gold and circular in his hand. It was my mocking-jay pin. I gaped at Cinna, wondering how he found it and why he didn't call me out on it. Cinna merely smiled and pocketed it. "I'll give it back to you after the ceremony. I wouldn't want you to lose your real token."

Brant and his stylist, Portia, appeared out of thin air. I grinned widely at what they had done to my brother. He looked quite dapper in his slim purple suit that went unspeakably well with my gown. His black plaid button up dress shirt was tucked in neatly to his pleated pants; his black boots were so shiny I could have done my makeup in them. A ribbon had been tied into a nice bow tie around his neck. I quickly made my way to my brother, tightening the bow and sighing. I was going to miss Brant more than anything.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes." Brant smiled. I felt a pang of pain in my chest, remembering those were the first words Gale had said to me when I had gotten back to District 12. I sniffed, feeling those dumb tears again. "Don't cry, Rix." He murmured, pulling me in for a hug.

"You're all grown up, Brant." I laughed halfheartedly. "I can't wait 'til Ma sees you. She's gonna die." Maybe die wasn't the best word for this situation... "And Madge. She's gonna swoon!"

Brant smiled broadly, chuckling as he shook his head. Then, he suddenly got serious, taking in my dress more closely. "Did they really have to make this dress so…_revealing_?" He muttered, trying to close the gap of the deep-v design. My chest was quite exposed. Brant clucked his tongue in disdain.

I swatted Brant's hands away, glaring. "We are the Capitol's tributes. No outfit is too scandalous. Too much skin is not enough skin." I joked lightly.

Brant rolled his eyes, still being my protective older brother.

"It's a television show, Brant. Besides, you're gonna have to let me grow up sometime in the next few days or I never will at all."

Brant narrowed his eyes about to dispute my comment when Cinna and Portia directed us into our chariot, carefully positioning our bodies until they were satisfied. I grabbed Brant's hand as our chariot moved to get in the back of the line of tributes, almost tumbling out. Brant laughed at my clumsiness but I could feel the sweat of his hand in mine. He was nervous.

"Don't worry, Brant. We're the best looking two here." I whispered encouragingly. It was true. The looks we were getting from the other tributes ranged from mild jealous to menacing glares. It was a good thing because the sponsors would love us even more compared to their silly costumes. But, we could be sorely punished for our outshining in the arena.

The opening music began. It was easy to hear, blasting around the Capitol. Massive doors slid open to reveal the crowd-lined streets. The ride would last about twenty minutes and we would end up in the City Circle where we were to be welcomed graciously.

The tributes from District 1 road out first in a chariot pulled by snow-white horses. They looked beautiful dressed in expensively jeweled tunics and silver crowns like they had already been named victor. The monstrous boy who had volunteered before volunteers were asked for had been eying me menacingly in the Remake Center as if to tell me that I was to be the first he would take out in the arena. I made sure that Brant had his back to the boy at all times.

You could hear the roar of the crowd. District 1 was always a favorite.

District 2 got into position and was soon following behind District 1. Before I knew it, Brant and I were approaching the door. The sky was pink and orange, the sun fading fast. The tributes from District 11 had just rolled out when my breathing started picking up. I felt like I was having a panic attack. How was Brant the calm one in this situation when this glamour, this attention, was my territory?

"Don't worry, Rix." Brant whispered as the chariot lurched forward. "We're the best looking two out here." I laughed as he repeated my words so cockily, so sure. I gripped his hand tighter as we entered the city.

We were automatically hit with a wave of deafening screams. Chants of "District Twelve!" echoed around the streets. Every head turned our way, ignoring the other chariots in front of us. My smile was nervous at first until I caught a glimpse of Brant and me upon the large television screen. Breathtaking. The brother and sister pair from District 12 wouldn't soon be forgotten in their Capitol wear. My grin widened until it hurt. I raised our hands and the roars shook the ground. Brant and I waved our free hand. Brant caught a purple rose, looking at me, laughing so good naturedly. It was almost as if we were just parading around the Capitol for fun, not for sponsors so we didn't die in the Games.

I shook my head, smiling at my brother. How could they take someone so strong, so loving from this shit filled world? They couldn't. I wouldn't let them. I blew a few kisses to the crowd and Brant followed in suit. I heard our names bouncing around multiple times like we were old friends. Maybe I knew some of them, but it was impossible to tell in the mess of faces.

The music pounded on, the cheers got even louder (if it was possible). The admiration, the love, the roar of the crowd. Cinna had given us the advantage we needed. We were a hit. No one would ever forget the Capitol's tributes as long as the Games were alive.

_"Rixa! Rixa! Brant!"_ They screamed, vying for our attention. We smiled our winning smiles and waved, giving air kisses to those lucky few.

It was not until we finally reached the City Circle that I realized my hand was completely drenched in sweat. And it wasn't my sweat. I wrinkled my nose playfully at him. The crowd went wild over such a simple movement. Our sibling love was to die for.

The twelve chariots filled the loop of the City Circle. The buildings surrounding the Circle were filled with most the prestigious citizens of the Capitol. Our horsed pulled our chariot right up to President Snow's mansion before we came to a halt. The music faded dramatically.

President Snow stood up, silencing the unruly crowd at once. He gave the official welcome from the balcony fifty feet above us. I could tell that Brant and I were getting more than our fair share of air time as they cut to us between showing the other tributes. Snow sat down, letting us know this parade is over.

The anthem played and we all made our final lap around the circle. The camera cut to the other districts but held Brant and I as we joked together, smiled and hugged, milking our sibling relationship for all it was worth. After the last lap, we disappeared into the Training Center.

The doors had barely shut behind us when our prep teams engulfed us in an endless babble of praise. I glanced around in between compliments and noticed my suspicions were true that their lack of air time had not gone unnoticed. We had outshone them all. The career districts could be the Capitol's pets but they couldn't complete with the Capitol's tributes.

I smiled triumphantly, letting this tiny bit of victory simmer inside me. It was one step closer to saving Brant.

Cinna and Portia helped us out of the chariot, beaming happily at us.

"Brilliant." Portia's deep voice smiled. "Absolutely stunning."

Cinna stood by, quietly taking in his success.

"You did amazing." I cried, ungluing my hand from his sweat one. I tackled him into a hug before being scolded by Portia. We were still wearing our expensive costumes. She told us we couldn't afford to pay for them if we damaged them.

Brant smiled shyly, "Sorry, Portia." He turned to me, holding out his hand. "I think we make a pretty good team, eh, Rix?" I shook it, laughing loudly.

"An unstoppable one. Who can stop the Capitol's tributes now?" I smirked as the rest of our crew burst through: Peeta, Haymitch, and Katniss.

They were all smiling, impressed by our performance. Haymitch lagged back, giving me a strange look. It was as if he was still expecting me to change my mind and beg him to train me to be the lone District 12 victor. I twitched my head to the side so discreetly that you had to be looking quite close to notice I was shaking my head. Haymitch pursed his lips at my answer, unhappy with it.

"You guys did great." Katniss said truthfully. I could see her neck was very red like she had been gripping it tightly during the entire chariot ride. She looked tired and stressed. I couldn't imagine how hard mentoring was, knowing that only one of your tributes could survive, especially when Katniss and I had a tainted history. This must be a complicated and stressful year for her. What a great first year to mentor, her fiancée's ex-girlfriend and her brother sent to arena. Was this what some called irony?

"Thanks." I said to her, giving her a small smile. The elation from our good job had me feeling generous. I glanced over at Peeta and he seemed to be resisting the urge to hug me. He smiled genuinely but I could tell he was struggling with something.

"You were really great, Rix." He managed to get out. I nodded gratefully.

"What about me?" Brant cried. I lightly punched Brant in the shoulder, laughing at his childishness.

"We should probably head up to the room." Haymitch suddenly said, eying something behind me. I barely turned my head, not wanting to be so obvious. I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach that it was the boy from 1. And it was. The devious grin on his face told me that I was as good as dead. I glanced unconcerned at Haymitch.

"Sounds good to me." My voice sounded a bit too casual. I just hoped that no one else caught onto what Haymitch and I did. But, Peeta was always too observant for his own good. I could see him glancing from the boy to me and back again.

"Good." Brant said, oblivious to this. "I'm beat. Being pretty is tiring and sweaty."

I snorted, nudging him as we all took off to the elevator. I was just about to get on when a voice caught my attention.

"Rixa!" Finnick said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me away with him.

"Hey!" Brant cried, dislike covering his face. Peeta's mirrored it with his fist clenched like he as about to hit someone.

"You don't mind if I steal your tribute for a moment, Haymitch?" Finnick asked sweetly.

Haymitch smiled back, shaking his head nonchalantly. "Of course not. Keep her as long as you like."

And with that, the elevator doors shut firmly, leaving me without any of my team. Without Brant or Haymitch or even Peeta.

I was alone in a room full of people who wanted me dead.

Lovely.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>_Wrote three chapters yesterday. On a roll. Not much Peeta in this chapter and he won't be in the next but the chapter after that will have some Rixa/Katniss, Rixa/Peeta/Haymitch/Brant, and Rixa/Peeta. (:_


	11. The Capitol's Favorite Victor

Finnick led me past all the chariots, earning me significantly more glares from the tributes. Was Finnick _trying_ to paint a target on me back? He rushed me behind a door that led us into a private bathroom and quickly locked the door behind us so we wouldn't be disturbed.

The bathroom was large and extravagant like most things in the Capitol. Colored glass covered the floor and walls. A large mirror covered one wall and all kinds of powder and perfume lined a marble counter adjacent to the mirror. The toilet sparkled cleanly in the dim light. Nothing was ever dirty in the Capitol.

"You're going to murder me." I said bluntly. "Get me out of the way so your tributes can have all the glory? Good plan."

Finnick snorted, rolling his eyes as he jumped up on the make up counter. He glanced at his beautiful image for a moment and turned his lazy gaze back toward me.

"And what kind of precedent would I be establishing by murdering a tribute myself? The Capitol would be very angry at their favorite victor. They prefer to watch all the tributes die in a bloody fantastic mess, not picked off before they reach the arena." Finnick shrugged. "No, I'm not here to murder you, Rix. I want to know if you've thought more about what I asked you."

What he had asked me? I was puzzled for a moment before I remembered he wanted me to team up with his careers.

"Not gonna happen, Finn. Sorry." I shook me head, leaning against the glass wall. At his disappointed glance I went on. "Honestly, Finn, if you were an untrained outer lying district tribute, would you foolishly team up with careers with no hope of defending yourself if they turned? Think about what you're asking me to do here."

Finnick rubbed his face tiredly. "I'm just trying to do something your not."

"And what's that?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"Save you!" He growled, standing up. "I can see it in your eyes! I've seen that look before in tributes. The look of failure, of surrender, before you've even started! You can't give up that easily, Rixa!"

I bit my lip, staring at my friend. I could see that this was taking its toll on Finnick. He wasn't used to not getting his way. "It's not your choice, Finn." I said quietly.

He shook his head angrily, his green eyes narrowed dangerously. His express was a bit mad. "I'm not letting you go that easily! You can't do this, not to me! Not when I have so little to get myself out of bed every morning! What am I supposed to do when you're gone? Wake up and venture the Capitol without you by my side? Have sex with all my clients and not have you to help me through the day with your jokes and understanding? How could I go on living like that? You don't know how it was before I met you. I was so close to losing it. But I had to go on, for my parents, for Annie. And I met you and things didn't seem so bad. Here you were, just a child, desperate for money so her family could survive, to have a better life. You reminded me of myself and that's why I let you in! That little girl with hope and dreams, what happened to that little girl, Rixa? What happened to you?" He begged, shaking me as if rattling my brain would make the information sit in my mind like he wanted it to.

"She grew up in a cruel world and had to make a choice between her brother's life and her insignificant one." I said defiantly. Finnick's face softened in defeat. How easy had that been? Too easy.

"She still has a chance." He whispered. I shook my head.

"I've made my decision." I repeated. "But, if you love me like you say you do, you'll help me."

Finnick furrowed his brow, concentrating hard. "So, you won't team up with my careers?"

I shook my head, annoyed. "_No_, Finnick."

He placed his cool hands on my face, gazing unblinkingly into my black eyes. "Then you have to give them something to work with. Something to make you utterly irresistible."

I looked at him confused, "What's more irresistible than the Capitol's tribute?" I asked perplexed.

"The Capitol's tribute in love with a victor."

It took a few moments for my brain to process this. "You want me to tell people we're in love?"

Finnick looked at me as if it was the most obvious thing in the word. I was at loss for words. What was going on? Why would this be Finnick's solution behind teaming with his careers?

Unless…

"Haymitch set you up to this, didn't he?" For some reason, I was furious.

Finnick didn't seem sorry. "If it helps save you, I don't see the problem."

"You don't see a problem in us pretending to be madly in love, for television?" I grinded my teeth, "Well, I guess as long as it makes for great television, who could it hurt?" Finnick could practically feel the anger radiating off of me. He blinked, baffled by my outburst. I was close to tears again. How could Finnick not know what he was asking me to do? This was the very thing that had practically destroyed me last year.

"Oh, Rix," He muttered as realization hit. "I didn't mean—it wasn't—I'm sorry. That was a dick move…"

"Yeah, it was." I told him, backing up. "But, if it helps Brant, I'll do it."

I could tell that this was not the reason Finnick had agreed to do it. But as long as I was willing to do something, it put him at ease.

"Are you almost done in there?" An impatient voice yelled, knocking on the door. I peered over at Finnick, worried about being seen with him in such a compromising position when I remembered we were supposed to be madly in love. I grabbed his hand and barged open the door.

"Sorry," I smiled sweetly to the shocked citizen. "We were just having sex. We're done now." And I stormed off with Finnick tagging along, unsure whether to scold me or laugh.

I led the way toward the room that had previously held all the tributes, their mentors, and prep teams. Now, it was eerily vacant. As soon as we were alone, I dropped Finnick's hand and scampered my way to the elevator. Finnick was hot on my trail. I slammed my fist against the up button and it opened almost immediately.

I threw my body inside it and almost locked Finnick out. He stepped his foot in the way before the door could close. I pressed level twelve and he did the same with four and we stood, fuming together in silence.

"I'm doing this for you." Finnick sighed, defeated. "You know that, right? I wasn't trying to make this like Peeta and Katniss. I would never do that to you."

"I know." I said angrily. But, I could stay mad at him long. Finnick was just trying to help and I was pushing him away. "It just turned out that way."

Finnick bounced the back of his head against the elevator wall. We stood with his head smacking against the wall being the only sound.

"Finn." I said, telling him to stop. "I know you just want to help. I'm not mad at you."

He glanced over at me, raising his blonde brow. "I'm not." I reassured him, lifting the sides of my lips to prove it. "I'm sorry. I'll try to be more considerate of your feelings. I get that this is harder on others than it is for me. I've accepted my fate but everyone else can't respect my decision. Sorry if I seem short with you." I sighed.

"You're always short to me." Finnick joked. "I mean with me…"

I lightly punched him in the chest as the elevator _dinged_. We had reached Finnick's floor.

"I've been through this before." Finnick said, "I should be more understanding even if I don't agree."

I smiled lightly, glad that he was slowly coming around. I didn't want to spend my last days fighting with anyone. I wanted to be at peace with the world, as much as I could be.

"Thank you, Finn."

His eyes began to water unexpected. "I'm going to miss you, Rix."

I pulled him in for a hug, letting him burrow his face into my shoulder. "Please don't cry, Finn. You know how uncomfortable it makes me." I joked, feeling that this was becoming my mantra.

I could feel his breath on my back as he chuckled, sniffling. "You could win this."

I snorted, "Don't patronize me."

Finnick let out a shaky laugh and brushed aside a stray piece of hair. "I'm quite fond of you, Hart. You're one of the good ones."

"You, too, Odair, you, too." I grinned, leaning into his chest again.

He stood back, straightening himself out. His eyes x-rayed me like this was the last time he'd ever see me. Today wasn't, but that day was coming soon. Backing up out of the doorway, he saluted me. "See you around, Lover Girl."

I tilted my head, saluting him back, "Right back atcha, Lover Boy."

With that, the elevator closed. And I found myself alone again.

* * *

><p>I love, love, love reviews! The more the merrier. (:<p>

But, seriously, review, dawg. Or I'll hunt you down and do something unspeakable...

Thanks for reading my story (:

Review...meow.


	12. The Forest

I hadn't realized how cold it was without Finnick's warmth. All I was wearing was my tribute dress and it provided no cover from the cold elevator. It was with a welcome feeling when the doors opened. Until I saw what awaited me:

Brant, Peeta, and Haymitch. My least favorite trio. All sitting at an extravagant table, hands clasped together, unmoving, still wearing their fancy clothes.

"This is creepy." I muttered, "How long have you been sitting here?"

Brant stood up right away. "I don't like that Finnick guy, Rixa. He's giving me a vibe."

"A vibe?" I laughed. "He's my friend, Brant. Not some psychopath tribute." My mind flashed to the boy from District 1.

"He's got his own tributes to worry about. He's using you!" Peeta said angrily from the table. Brant's figure was blocking him so I couldn't see his face.

_"Using me?"_ I scowled, "You _cannot_ be serious! Haymitch, help me out here!" I stormed over to the table, placing my hands on my hips expectantly. He was the one who put Finnick up to this.

Haymitch leaned back in his chair, resigned to stay neutral. "I don't know what you want me to help you with. Finnick Odair's got his own agenda."

_Yeah, an agenda you put him up to_ I thought angrily. Was this my punishment for giving up the fight for victor? Put Peeta and Brant against me; make us fight until we died. What kind of person was Haymitch?

I pursed my lips, making them go bloodless. "I promise you, I know what I'm doing. I'm in," I glanced sweetly over at Haymitch, "capable hands."

Peeta mouthed the words, shaking his head. "Haymitch is right! You can't listen to what Odair says! He's trying to lure you with his seduction and then have his tributes make you an easy kill! Stop laughing, Rixa!"

I found myself laughing after Peeta said the word seduction. It sounded utterly ridiculous from his innocent mouth.

"Honestly, he's a good guy, Peet." I chuckled before I realized what I'd said. I glanced up at Peeta's face and he looked as shocked as I felt. I swallowed, mortified that I had let his old nickname slip out. Being around Peeta was bursting down all those walls I'd carefully placed to protect myself. And here Peeta was, trying to save the day, save me. But, it was too little too late.

"I think we'll have that talk tomorrow." I told Haymitch coldly before disappearing through the apartment before I realized I had no idea where my room was. I could go back, not when Peeta was back there. I didn't want to see Peeta anymore. So, I wandered around the huge apartment until I ran into Katniss.

It was one of those rare (almost nonexistent) moments when Katniss was vulnerable. Her room was bare, only a queen sized bed with yellow blanketing and two pillows. There was a large mahogany dresser filled with nice clothes that I doubted Katniss would ever wear. Where the window overlooking the Capitol should have been was a projection of a forest that looked incredibly like the one back in District 12.

Katniss looked up at me, surprised and clicked the remote in her hand and the Capitol suddenly appeared again. She glanced down, avoiding my gaze.

"No," I said softly, creeping towards her, "Put it back."

She did as she tucked her knees into her chest, comforting herself.

"Do you mind?" I gestured to the empty spot next to her. She shook her head quickly and averted her gaze back to the woods. I plopped down gently, crossing my legs, staring mournfully at the woods. It seemed like only yesterday I was in there, searching for Gale before he snuck up on me like he always did. You could never sneak up on Gale in the woods.

"Do you miss it?" I asked, breaking the silence.

Katniss took a few moments to respond. "Yes. All the time."

I nodded. "Gale misses you." I told her, feeling that she should know. If that was the reason holding back their conversations, Gale would want her to know. "We don't talk about it directly but I know he does. Just like I miss Peeta."

Katniss glanced at me, pain fill her grey eyes. I hadn't wanted to upset her but some things are painful to hear. I watched the beautiful woods again. They seemed too peaceful and real as if they were actually sitting right in front of us instead of hundreds of miles away. I ached to be there again, maybe have Gale teach me some things about hunting so I wasn't so painfully inept for these Games.

When it became too painful to bear, I made to stand, to leave, when Katniss' voice returned.

"He misses you, too, you know?"

I froze in an awkward position between crouching and standing. The breath caught in my throat as I stared into those woods again. Peeta and I had celebrated our second anniversary in the woods surrounding District 12 merely weeks before the Reaping.

"And we do talk about it directly. He talks about you all the time. He still loves you." I glanced at Katniss, suddenly feeling furious at her for saying this to me. I wasn't sure if she was trying to get back at me for what I had said about Gale or if she was genuinely trying to be nice. I thought the latter was worse. Because, if she was telling the truth, it only made things worse and complicated and I couldn't take that right now. Not when I had to focus solely on saving Brant.

"I guess he doesn't love me enough since you're the one hes marrying." I said in a cracked voice. Katniss looked at me as she wanted to tell me more, but something held her back. Maybe some secret that she couldn't tell me or maybe she agreed but didn't have the audacity to say it aloud.

Either way, this conversation was over. I was half way out of Katniss' room when I remembered why I had come in there in the first place.

"Where's my room?"

"Five doors down. Across from Peeta's. The doors open." Katniss told me before turning back to the lull of the forest. I nodded but she couldn't see.

Slowly, I made my way to my room, blocking out the conversation we just had. What made it excruciatingly hard was the fact that Peeta's room just so happened to be right next to mine. The odds really weren't in my favor.

I tried to tip toe by but it was no use. Peeta was leaning against his door frame, waiting for me. He still hadn't changed out of his suit. I stopped, feet away from Peeta. He still looked peeved but kept his mouth shut about Finnick.

"Hey," He murmured, his muscular arms were crossed across his chest. "Found your room alright?"

Obviously. But, I didn't say that aloud. "Katniss told me."

He nodded, glancing down the hall as if Katniss would be standing there. "I see."

I kept moving past him almost to my open door when he spoke again. "Are you okay?"

I whirled around at Peeta, confused. "What do you mean?"

He took a few hesitant steps forward and reached out his hand, wiping something from my cheek. I glanced down at his finger tips and noticed the wetness. I was crying.

"I…" I stuttered. I hadn't even realized I was crying. Why was I crying? I didn't feel sad. Maybe a little tired. Was it because of what Katniss had told me? Must have been, but I was trying not to think about that.

"Rix," His countenance was worried; he glanced back down the hall, "What did she say to you?"

"Nothing." I shook my head, wiping the stray tears, "We just talked. Nothing happened."

Peeta didn't seem convinced so I gave him my winning smile. "See? Happy as can be."

He shook his head, the corners of his lips turned upwards. "You could never lie to me."

"You're just too intuitive for your own good. You read far too much into my words." I rolled my eyes.

"I think it's because I know you better than anyone else." He shrugged nonchalantly.

"You did. You knew who I was before you left." I corrected him, "A lot has changed since then."

Peeta coiled back, knowing he had pushed too far again. He nodded stoically. "You're right."

I silently agreed and pushed past him again.

"I meant what I said about that Finnick character." His voice had an edge to it. A desperate edge.

"I'll be fine, Peet." I glanced back at Peeta and I could see him forcing back a smile. I silently cursed myself for my slip. I grabbed the door handle and almost closed myself off from Peeta when his voice interrupted me again and he was suddenly right behind me.

"Wait, Rixa!"

I turned around and Peeta was standing less then a foot away. His warm scent, smelling recently cooked bread and something sweet, penetrated my nostrils, making me ache for his touch, for him to hold me and make the bad things go away. But I wouldn't cave into it. Not tonight anyway.

I glanced at him expectantly when he didn't go on. "Yeah?"

He opened his mouth a few times, only to shut it. Scratching his temple, he finally spat out, "Good night."

I shook my head, perplexed by this boy. "Night, Peeta."

Peeta smiled shyly in response before I shut the door in his face. I let out an exhausted sigh and leaned my tired body against the door, thinking about all that had taken place tonight. It seemed like years ago that the boy from District 1 had marked me as his enemy, that Finnick had dragged me to the bathroom and told me that we were to pretend we were madly in love, and that Katniss told me Peeta still loved me. But it had all happened just tonight. I didn't want to process any of these things; I just wished they had never happened.

Least of all did I want to think about Peeta and the possibility of him still loving me because it would never be enough. If Peeta loved me that much, he would have come back to me after the Games. To be fair, I had run away, but it wasn't like Peeta put in any effort to find me at the only other place I would be. Gale would have told Peeta where I was if he had only asked. But, Peeta didn't. Because Katniss was a liar. Out of cruelness or pity, I'll never know.

I peeled my Tribute Parade clothes off my body and stood in my room, naked, for a few moments. The coolness felt soothing on my hot skin. After ten minutes, I had finally cooled off enough to put on some clothes. I pilfered through my wardrobe until I found a pair of shorts and an over sized t-shirt.

After unbraiding my hair and piling it all onto my hair with one of the hair ties Cinna had provided, I pulled on my new clothes and hopped into bed, staring out the window that overviewed the Capitol. I sat underneath the covers for a few moments before suddenly jumping out, scanning the room for the remote Katniss had used in her room. I opened and closed drawers and rifled through the whole room, on the verge of going to Peeta's room and asking to borrow his when I spotted it on the window sill.

I breathed a sigh of relief and jumped back into bed, burrowing under the covers as I fiddled with the remote. Desert terrains, snow villages, and a beaches flashed by until I found the one I wanted: the forest.

I chucked the remote away and laid my head down, staring out into the realistic scene. Lying there, I listened as the trees rustled lightly in the wind and mocking-jays sang sweetly into the night. It felt so real that I almost forgot where I was.

I was in the Capitol, sleeping on a comfy bed, waiting for the Hunger Games to start so I could die and Brant could win. That's where I was.

But, as I fell slowly into dream land, I fooled myself into believing I was back in District 12, walking through the forest, at peace with the world. I could almost feel warm protective arms wrap around me as I slipped away.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>_School starts tomorrow so updates are going to be a bit slow. Sorry! Here was some Rixa/Katniss that I know many of you wanted. I've been getting comments about writing more Katniss but, in all, honesty, she's a very hard character to write for. The way Suzanne did it was just perfect and amazing and I could never truly replicate it. That's why I don't really touch Katniss that much. And, besides, this story is kind of about everyone but Katniss at the moment. I have ideas for later on in the rebellion where Katniss becomes a huge character, but not at the moment. The story's about Rixa and Brant and Rixa trying to come to terms with her life before she enters the arena. I hope that you're okay with this because it's not going to change any time soon. Katniss will only have maybe three more appearances for the remainder of this story, I think. But, that's just how it turned out because, again, this is about Rixa and Brant, not Katniss (but someday soon it will be!)._

_Oh, and I love hearing reviews! (:_


	13. The Agenda

A loud, annoying banging woke me up the next morning. It was Effie, again.

"Up, up, up! It's going to be a big, big, big day!" She chirped.

Every day seemed to be a big, big, big day to Effie Trinket.

I groaned, rolling over, noticing that someone had turned off the forest sometime during the night. Or maybe it was programmed to shut off at some point. I chucked back the covers, rubbing my tired eyes when I noticed something white on the floor.

Someone had slipped a piece of paper under my door. I hopped off the bed and made my way to the paper. I picked it up, unfolding it quickly, not recognizing the messy handwriting.

_Meet me in S3 after breakfast. Cinna is giving it to us the hour before you report to the Training Center. Bring your thinking cap, sweetheart. – H_

Haymitch. I crumpled the paper up and chucked it into a waste basket by my bed. My hands clamped down on the golden door handle and tugged it down, releasing me from my room. Luckily, Peeta's door was still closed. I quickly sped by in case he opened it up and wanted to have another chat.

I followed the path to Katniss' room and made my way back to the kitchen from there. The air smelled of sizzling ham and eggs. The table was decked with all kind of delicious breakfast foods. I took a seat next to Brant and dug in, picking up a berry muffin and pouring some coffee.

"Morning." Brant yawned, smiling brightly. "Have a good slumber?"

"Uh huh," I said, chomping down on my muffin. "I feel so relaxed; I could just take on twenty tributes right now."

Brant snorted, sipping on his juice. Effie, who had been sitting at the end of the table, stood up impatiently. "They always ignore me when I tell them to get up. At least _you_ two have manners." She sighed; click clacking away in her high heels.

Brant and I ate in silence, relishing in the little time we had alone. I picked at my muffin as Brant slurped on some eggs. I wanted to talk to him about what he thought about our training sessions today but couldn't find the words to say it. It wasn't like it was a complicated conversation, but it made this thing seem all the more deadly and dangerous. Dressing up nice for the Capitol was fun, but now came the important part: how the hell we were supposed to survive in the arena on our own.

Katniss wandered in ten minutes later with Effie but Peeta was still missing. I was glad for it. He would probably start up some dumb conversation, hating the silence. I didn't feel like talking. I had to save my energy for my meeting with Haymitch and the training sessions today. But, mostly dealing with Haymitch. I still had to have a word with him about his plan about Finnick and I. He had no right to press that upon me without my consent. This was about me and Brant, not Finnick.

I stood up after I finished my muffin and excused myself. "I'll see you at training."

"Where are you going?" Brant asked, worried. I smiled at my brother; he worried about me too much.

"She's got a meeting with Haymitch." Katniss spoke up.

I nodded, "What she said."

Brant peered up at me, desperate for me to either stay or let him come with me. But, he couldn't come and I couldn't stay. I was going to find a strategy to keep Brant alive and I didn't think bringing Brant along to argue with me every step of the way would be very productive.

"I'll see you in an hour, bro." I promised, trying to ease his distress. "We'll be reunited before you know it."

Brant didn't seem particularly helped by this.

"Don't worry, Brant," Katniss said trying to help, "We'll keep you busy. We've got some strategies to work out."

His eyes flickered and I could see determination. Brant must have been planning the same thing I was, but it wouldn't work. Haymitch had already promised me that Brant would be the victor between us, if one of us even won.

"Are you going to cry if you leave?" I raised a suspicious brow.

Brant rolled his eyes as Katniss let out a short laugh. I smiled, appreciating the fact that I wasn't leaving Brant truly alone. Katniss would give him something to keep his mind off of the coming Games.

"See you in an hour." He dismissed me, waving me off playfully.

I rushed to my room but Peeta's door was still closed. When I finished changing it was open, but the apartment was deserted. I hurried to the elevator and pressed _S3_.

After another stressful elevator ride, I was waiting in my prep room for ten minutes before Haymitch stumbled in. I was already peeved at my mentor and he wasn't helping his case.

"You just wasted ten minutes of our precious mentoring time." I told him. Haymitch rolled his eyes, pulling out a small flask of what I assumed was a spirit.

"In a rush to die, sweetheart?" He asked, plopping down on the plush red waiting chair next to me.

"The sooner I die, the sooner you get rid of me." I said optimistically. "I like to think on the bright side of things."

"Shall we get down to business, then?" He questioned, ignoring my comment. I nodded in response.

"How did you piss off Malum so fast?" Haymitch snorted.

My eyes widened, "Who's Malum?"

"The monster from One." He answered.

"Oh," I said, "You noticed him, too?"

Haymitch shook his head in disbelief. "That boy has been watching you since we entered the Training Center."

"He's going to kill me." I told him. It was true, not like saying it playfully when someone was mad at you. Malum was really going to kill me, murder me in cold blood.

"Probably." Haymitch agreed, "And Brant. So, what are we going to do about it?"

"You're the mentor. You tell me."

"Well, sweetheart," Haymitch took another sip of his spirit. "What can you do?"

I thought about it for a moment. What was I good at that would be of any use to me in the Games?

"I'm good at running away."

Haymitch chortled, shaking his head. "I bet you are. You fast?"

"I think so." I told him.

He pursed his lips, "I guess we can work with that. What can Brant do?"

"A lot more than run." I laughed humorlessly, "He can run, hunt, fight. He's strong and fearless. He can—"

"You trying to make me fall in love with him or tell me what will help him live?" Haymitch interrupted.

"I'm telling you Brant can survive." I gritted my teeth.

"He's a fighter." Haymitch agreed. "But you're a victor."

I wanted to punch Haymitch. Square in the jaw, just one time.

But, he was my mentor, and Capitol citizens didn't act so rashly or improper. I could hear Effie's disgruntled voice cry,_ "Manners!"_

This new outrage at Haymitch reminded me of my old one.

"So, what's Finnick's agenda?" I asked, propping my legs up on the glass table like Haymitch had.

"Agenda?" He asked innocently.

"Yeah, I mean, why can't he suddenly be trusted when his only agenda appears to be the one you gave him?" I tilted my head, staring pointedly at my mentor.

Haymitch narrowed his eyes, his dry lips curling upwards, "Have you agreed to do it?"

"What if I don't?" I said childishly.

"Then, I don't help you." I sat up a little straighter, rather alert.

"But, you promised!" I gasped, "You said if I forgave Peeta you would help me."

Haymitch shrugged, "You didn't forgive him enough. So, I made up this little detail to make us even."

I glared hatefully at him. He was a despicable, sad man. "Fine. What the sob story? Finnick and I had finally confessed our undying love for each other when I was tragically Reaped into the Hunger Games and now must fight my own brother in the hopes of making it back to the Capitol's favorite heartbreaker?" I seethed.

He snorted, "Right on the nose, sweetheart."

"How incredibly cliché." I mumbled.

"The Capitol isn't known for their original thoughts and intelligent minds. They'll eat it up and it will give you the advantage you and Brant need to survive." Haymitch told me complacently.

I knew Haymitch was right, I just wasn't going to voice that aloud.

"So, at the interviews," Haymitch went on, "Caesar will ask you about the rumors of you and Finnick being seen together in compromising positions. You will call Finnick up to the stage; finally spill your secret love. Cue the tears and passionate kiss and you'll be done."

I nodded stoically. "Sounds fantastic."

"You can act, cant you, sweetheart?" Haymitch asked smartly.

"I act like I care to hang around you, don't I?"

Haymitch sighed deeply, "Maybe we should set up a quick acting session with Effie."

I crossed my arms tightly across my chest, not in the mood for his jokes. "What's the rest of the plan? You know—the part where I'm on my own in the arena and need a strategy to survive that doesn't involve dressing like a Capitol citizen or confessing my love for Finnick."

"You can run?" He asked.

"Yes," I nodded.

"Then, run."

I glanced at Haymitch astonished. "_Run?_ That's your genius plan?"

He raised his eyebrows ever so slightly, "Got a better plan, sweetheart?"

I just stared at him, my mouth gaped open and my eyes wide. Had I sacrificed everything only to run? No, I promised Brant and Gale I wouldn't run away anymore.

"I'm done running." I told him fiercely. "I'm going to fight."

Haymitch smirked, "Is that so, sweetheart?"

"Stop calling me sweetheart." I growled, "And, yes, that's my plan. If I'm going down, it won't be without a fight so give me usable information to help me survive damnit!"

My mentor leaned back, pondering my outburst. I just held my icy stare, hoping to wear him down.

Haymitch cleared his throat, setting his empty glass down, "You ever hunted?"

"A few times." I told him.

"Ever used a bow?"

"Yes,"

"Maybe you're not as useless as you think you are."

"I never said I was useless." I said coldly, "Only incapable."

He snorted again, "How about an axe or a knife?"

"Axe, no. Knife, yes."

He puckered up his lips, "Ever chucked one at a moving target from fifty feet away?"

I laughed, "Yes, I had a lot of time to practice my knife throwing at the Capitol."

"Well, Ridley can." Haymitch informed me.

"Who's Ridley?" I asked.

"Your best friend from One's partner." So, District One was lethal. That was obvious.

"Anyone else got amazing talents?" I sighed, propping an elbow against the arm rest and placing my worried face on my palm.

"Gusto can wield a sword better than Cato could. Don't approach him when he's got his prized weapon in his greedy grip." He warned me. "Velvet, his tribute mate, seems ditzy and blonde, but she's as blood crazed as the rest of them, I can assure you. Four's pair are careers as well. Finnick's informed me they're great with spears and nets but if they can't get their hands on them, they'll go for any lethal weapon they can find. They're all well trained.

"Holland from Five is whip smart. All of Five seems to be. But, she's not a good fighter so you can easily take her." I gulped, not wanting to think about ending someone's life. But, if I wanted Brant to win, I was going to have to spill some blood. "Freddy Mason may seem tiny and insignificant, but seeing who is sister is, I'll bet all the alcohol in the world he's got something up his sleeve. Make sure he doesn't get his hands on an axe, because—unlike you—he knows how to use one beautifully."

Freddy Mason. Why did that name sound so familiar?

"Who's his sister?" I questioned.

Haymitch peered at me skeptically, almost laughing at my stupidity. "Honestly, sweetheart, if you want to interrupt me with idiotic questions like that, then maybe we should be done for the day."

"No!" I said hurriedly, "Continue!" I mentally cursed myself for stopping him when we were finally making headway.

Haymitch continued lazily, annoyed by my outburst, "Well, I'm almost done anyway. Bruno from Eleven is the only one outside the careers that appears to be of any threat. Hes strong and looks like he can think on his feet. Let the careers handle him."

"And what will I do with the careers?" I asked.

"Wait 'til they start to turn on each other, then you make your move." He told me simply.

"And what's my move?" I scooted closer, feeling a bit excited at the prospect of a real solid plan.

"You run."

I groan in discontent, "I told you I'm not running anymore!"

"Fine," Haymitch grunted, "But, at least run away from the cornucopia in the beginning, get out of the initial bloodbath. If you die that early, any hope of Brant surviving dies with you."

"I can deal with that." I agreed. "What do I do after that?"

"Survive until there's only you and the careers left."

"And Brant." I reminded him.

"Yes, yes," He said impatiently, "Brant, too. Find water and a food source. Learn about plants and berries during training. Get all the survival techniques, not so much the fighting techniques. You got a good memory?"

"Yes." I repeated. "Remember everything they tell me about what is okay to touch and eat and what's not. That's how I survive?"

"Precisely, sweetheart." Haymitch clapped his hands patronizingly.

"So, how do I learn to fight if I'm busy learning about berries and camouflage?"

"Brant learns to fight. You learn to survive." Haymitch burped loudly, "You two stay together until the end. You keep food and water together; he kills anyone who tries to take you out. Nothing can go wrong."

"Until we get attacked by the careers!" I cried, "I'm not going to be some helpless girl! I'm going to kill anyone who tries to kill us."

Haymitch smirked, "Well, you better go learn how to pick up a fifty pound axe and wield it like you're from Seven in the next three days or you're going to have to rethink your no running policy."

"I can do it." I said firmly, "A little encouragement would be nice."

"Do you want me to sugar coat this for you, sweetheart?" Haymitch mocked.

"You know I don't." I pursed my lips. "I just would like a little appreciation for all I'm doing."

"Oh," Haymitch stood up, "Would you like me to get Brant or Peeta and let them thank you for a job well done, for all your hard work in sacrificing yourself for your brother that they don't want you to do and may not let you do?"

My jaw clenched, "Its going to work, so help me God." I muttered through grinding teeth, "If I come out of that arena, all of you are going to be my next victims."

_"Ooh!"_ Haymitch laughed loudly. "How will three victors fend themselves against a ninety pound girl from the Capitol?"

"If I come out of that arena, you'll be against a ninety pound victor who just lost her brother with nothing to stop her from getting revenge." I told him calmly. Haymitch shook his head, making his way back to the elevator.

"Times up, sweetheart." He smiled grimly, "Learn survival techniques, then learn to fight. Run from the cornucopia. Nothing in there is worth wasting you or your brother's life. Run until you get self-righteous and then kill everyone who comes in your path. Got it?" He stood there, waiting my answer and presence.

I picked myself off the couch and padded my way to him, pressing the up button. "Got it, _sweetheart_."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>_Sorry for the delay! School and some dance thing kept me from writing. I recently got a message that someone has stolen my story, changed a few names, and posted it as their own. So, I had to deal with that. But, the storys been deleted so its all good._

_I posted this chapter earlier but I guess it didn't go through or something. Weird._


	14. The Little Mason

Cinna had Brant and I dressed in identical black outfits, a pair of pants and a short sleeve shirt, both skin tight. They were flexible and I had a strong feeling they probably sucked in sweat like no other because I was definitely sweating buckets without a single sweat mark. The right sleeve had the numbers 12 embroidered in to let everyone know who we were. I was surprised Haymitch hadn't had the Capitol symbol tattooed on, milking my Capitol angle for all it was worth. But, all the other tributes had the same outfit on with their own District number. We had to be uniform now.

Brant wanted to stay together but I had no other choice then to go along with Haymitch's plan.

"You go over to the combat area, I'll check out the knot tying station." I told him gently, "The more we cover, the better our chances."

Brant seemed to find this logical and made his way to the combat area where Malum and all the other careers were. I gulped as I caught Malum's eye again. With his piercing blue eyes and buzz cut blonde hair, he stood at a towering five foot ten and always had a devious smirk on his tan face. Every time I caught a glimpse at him, or caught him smirking at me, the hairs all over my body stood up on edge.

I shook it off and wandered toward my station. A balding middle aged man, wearing his own sweat outfit with the Capitol's symbol on it, smiled brightly at me. I could see why, no one really came to these stations. They really kept toward the weapons and fighting ones where they could show off how strong and deadly they were.

The man showed me how to tie a few simple knots. When I barely mastered them, we moved onto complicated ones that I had no hope of doing. After about twenty minutes on one knot, I decided it was time to give up and move to a new station.

As I made my way to a new station, I noticed that Malum was not the only one watching me. Up in the box about ten feet above us, were the Gamemakers, sitting in and evaluating all the tributes. I pushed on, trying to ignore that I was being watched by everyone. It was a new pressure added on top of all the others.

I ended up at the berry and plants station and there were two others there: Holland, the redhead from 5, and Freddy Mason from 7. I smiled lightly at them. Holland looked at me, alarmed and wide eyed. But, I guessed I could have just been reading too far into it because her face always seemed to be like that.

Freddy, on the other hand, waved happily at me and started up conversation.

"So, you're the girl from the Capitol?" His youthful voice asked. His chocolate eyes were bright and carefree. His curly brown hair was unruly on his head as if someone had tried to make them flat but failed terribly.

"That would be me." I answered, unsure whether to be on my guard. Haymitch had said this boy was dangerous but he just seemed like a regular kid to me, trying to mask his fear with over zealous happiness. I could see the fear in his eyes; it was in everyone who wasn't a career.

"Is the Capitol a cool place to live?" He went on as the instructor started to go over which berries were poisonous or held healing properties.

I smiled, chuckling a bit at his enthusiasm. "You bet. Much better than Twelve, but that's to be expected. We don't have much running hot water, or running water in general."

Freddy nodded, in awe by my simple words._ "Wow."_

I couldn't help but laugh. He seemed to genuinely blown away by my words and company.

"I'm Frederick Mason by the way! Or Freddy as everyone calls me." He held out his tiny hand and I took it.

"Nice you meet you, Freddy." I told him, "I'm Rixa Hart."

"You have a cool name." He smiled innocently. It tugged at my heartstrings that this boy was being sent to the Games at such a young age. Maybe this was his strategy: seem adorable and innocent and people will underestimate you.

Well, it was working. All I could think was how much he reminded me of Koel and how his death could be what stood in the way of Brant's survival. It was just awful to think that way and I hated myself for it.

"So, what's Seven like?" I interrogated, swallowing the rising lump in my throat.

Freddy sighed, playing with some of the berries, "Boring! All we do is cut down wood and sell wood."

I laughed at Freddy's whine about his District. It was something that Koel would say about our District and coal.

"What?" He said, unsure why I was laughing.

"You just reminded me of my little brother." I told him as I rubbed various leaves on my skin, trying to find the one that felt like an ice pack was on your arm.

"Oh," Freddy perked up, "What's his name?"

"Koel." Maybe I was letting him know too much. He would surely tell his mentors all about this and try and find my weakness. But, I was pretty sure that everyone knew my weakness was family from the Reaping.

"So, you have two brothers?" He questioned about to plop a purple berry in his mouth when the instructor stopped him.

"That's nightlock." She scolded him, swiping it from his hands. Freddy shrugged, smiling innocently.

"Sorry," He pouted before turning back to me, "So, you have two brothers?" He repeated.

"Two brothers and a sister." I told him, trying to hide my smile from the glaring instructor. If one of us had died on her watch, I'm sure the consequences would have been deadly.

"What's her name?"

"Ruby." I said. We stopped speaking as the instructor told us about the properties of nightlock and that we weren't supposed to go near it. She went on to tell us all about an orange berry that was extremely rare. It kept you fed for days and if you rubbed it on a cut, it kept infection away. But, they had only appeared in one Game thirty years ago so the likelihood of ever seeing one was next to none.

When the grey haired, stony faced instructor finished, Freddy happily turned back to me and went on with our conversation as if there was no interruption.

"I've got a sister." He told me, eying a berry to make sure it wasn't nightlock and popping it in his mouth. His face scrunched up and he looked around frantically for something to spit it out on.

"Do you miss her?" I asked, holding up a leaf and giving it to Freddy to rid himself of the sour berry. He took it thankfully and hid it under the pile of leaves.

"No," He shook his head, grinning shyly, "She's my mentor."

My eyes widened when I realized why his name sounded so familiar.

"You're Johanna Mason's little brother." I stated, shocked. He nodded fervently, a smile clad on his boyish face.

"Yes, ma'am." Freddy commented proudly. Haymitch was right about Freddy. His sister had turned out to be a crazed merciless killer, why shouldn't little Frederick be one as well? I felt my face fall and Freddy's expression changed.

"That's usually how people react when they find out Johanna and I are related." He sighed, leaning his face against his arms on the metal counter.

"Oh, no!" I put out my hands, waving them, "No, I wasn't—" But, I was. Whatever it was, I was doing it. This kid was innocent, he wasn't his sister. Why should I treat him like he was?

Freddy bit his lip; his big brown eyes were glazed over in fear.

"Freddy?" I asked tentively, patting his back awkwardly.

"Can I tell you something?" He asked in a small voice, "Will you promise not to tell Johanna?"

I wasn't exactly on first name basis with her so yes, I could promise him this. This was probably one of the few promises I could keep.

"Of course." I told him earnestly. Freddy glanced around, trying to put on a tough face.

He ducked his head and whispered, "I'm scared."

I furrowed my brows, glancing around to see if anyone was watching. For once, no one was. "What are you scared of?"

Freddy glanced at me incredulously.

"You're afraid to be in the Games?" I asked softly but he shook his head.

"Of killing someone? Of dying?" I went on, feeling weird for asking these questions. These were the things I was terrified of.

"No." Freddy said, "Not about those things. It's stupid really. Johanna would laugh at me if she ever found out."

"What is it Freddy?" I pushed, feeling bad for him. "I promise I won't laugh."

Freddy frowned, looking quite distressed and embarrassed. "I—I'm afraid of…being alone."

Alone? That was the last thing I was afraid of in all of this. I hadn't thought twice about being alone when I had Brant. And I never felt like I was alone when I was constantly being suffocated by Peeta or Haymitch or Finnick.

"It's stupid, I know," Freddy went on when he took my silence as a bad thing. Maybe he was thinking that I would use this against him. "But, it's something I can't shake. I'm not used to being alone. It always reminds me of when Johanna had to go away to be in the Games. I don't like to think about being without her. We're all each other has."

He seemed so truly distraught that I found myself pulling him into a hug, thinking about Koel who would be alone if Brant and I didn't make it. So, I hugged Freddy tightly, feeling that pestering lump rise in my throat.

"You won't be alone." I promised Freddy, pulling away. He looked shocked but relieved by my consoling. "You know Johanna will be doing everything possible to help you. Besides, there will twenty three other people in the arena. And I promise that as long as you stick with me, you won't be alone."

Freddy glanced at me surprise. "Are you saying you want to be allies?" He asked hopefully.

I pursed my lips, glancing over at the combat area where Brant was still located. I caught his puzzled eye and could tell he was wondering what I was up to, what I was playing at by hugging Johanna Mason's little brother.

"I'm saying that if our paths cross in the arena," I sighed, probably going to regret this, "I'll look after you for Johanna. Sound good?"

Freddy brightened up immediately, becoming the boy I had met when I first came to the station. He nodded his head wildly.

I forced a smile, feeling stressed over what I had just promised this boy. I couldn't take care of Freddy _and_ keep Brant alive. One of them would have to die for the other to win and I didn't want that on my hands, no matter how much Freddy resembled our brother.

Now, I was feeling nauseous with guilt and had to find a way to let out my frustration. I made my way over to the combat section; flying straight passed all the gawking careers and Brant, and picked up the only weapon I really knew how to use. I grabbed the bow and an arrow and lifted it up, targeting the lifelike dummy. I took a deep breath and prayed that I wouldn't miss with all these people watching. The Gamemakers were surely waiting to see if I was any good.

I let out the shaky breath through my nostrils and blocked at any sound. I swallowed the excess saliva and released the string, letting the arrow fly.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>_Finally, some new characters! I love Freddy. He's a little cutie (: Maybe he'll win the Games..._

_I spent most of yesterday writing this and 'casting' the other tributes. So, here's the cast list:_

_Malum: Seth Gabel (from Nip/Tuck)_

_Freddy Mason: Nolan Gould_

_Bruno: Michael B. Jordan_

_Holland: Bonnie Wright_

_Gusto: Grey Damon_

_Ridley: Ellen Page_

_Velvet: AnnaLynne McCord_

_Johanna Mason: Christina Ricci_

_Narina: Sarah Roemer_

_Reid: Jesse Eisenberg_

_Anna: AnnaSophia Robb_

_And what the hell, Gale Hawthorn: Liam Hemsworth (duh)_

_You haven't met some of them but you've heard of most of these characters so I thought I'd just let you know what they looked like (:_

_I think the next chapter will be the personal training sessions. If all goes according to plan, chapter 17 should be off to the arena! Yeeeeee!_

_Your comments always brighten my day. You guys are awesome! (:_


	15. The Allies And Enemies

I missed the targets on the head and chest, but caught the dummy straight in the neck. I guessed that was good enough for how unskilled I was at weapons.

The Gamemakers were having a heyday, writing things down, taking amongst themselves adamantly. It was hard to tell whether they were impressed or disappointed with all the bushy beards covering their faces and the surgical enhancements.

Malum's deep, threatening voice bellowed, "Guess Capitol's not as useless as she pretends."

I could feel my cheeks burning as Brant hurried over to me.

"What was _that_?" He demanded, "What are you doing?"

I bit my lip in the same spot that I had damaged on the train, "I just needed to do something! I felt useless with all the dumb plants."

It took me a few moments to register that Brant was furious with me. But, why? All I had done was shoot an okay shot. Just one shot. I hadn't been pretending I was something I wasn't; I hadn't given away any secret. It was only one lousy arrow, how much could it hurt?

Apparently, very much.

"Do you have a brain?" Haymitch asked as soon as I sat down on one of the plush yellow chairs in the apartment. Brant had ratted me out about the incident in the Training Center and now, apparently, Haymitch, Katniss, and our stylists were holding an intervention. When I didn't respond he asked impatiently, "Well, do you?"

"Yes." I said shortly, not feeling like some man who wasn't my parent should be scolding me. "I have a brain."

"So, it must be broken then," Haymitch said loudly, "Because you did exactly what I told you _not_ to do!"

"I don't see what the big deal is!" I shouted back, standing up to defend myself, "It was one arrow! It wasn't even a good shot!"

Haymitch slammed his glass on the table, shattering it. "It's a big deal because I gave you the plan you begged me to give you and you went and did whatever the precious little _Capitol's Tribute_ wanted to do! You don't care for anyone but yourself! You just do whatever you wanna do so I might as well just let you go into that arena and let yourself and Brant get killed in the bloodbath." He shook his head tauntingly, "I knew you didn't care about your life, but obviously you could care even less about Brant's. Why didn't you just shoot that arrow at Brant and save him from having to even go into the arena?" He pulled something out of his pocket: a small, razor sharp knife. "Why don't you just kill him now? Here's a knife, finish the job you started today because I promise you those careers will torture your brother to death because of what you did. When Brant dies in the arena, it will be all your fault—"

And that's when I lost it. I acted out the fantasy I'd been having since I'd met Haymitch and clocked him right in the jaw. All the anger I had built up toward Haymitch and the Capitol and Ma and Peeta and Katniss and Brant and everyone else in Panem transferred into my fist and Haymitch's face got the blow. As Haymitch fell backward from the contact, I felt oddly relieved that I had finally acted out on my own, not mindlessly do everything others wanted me to do. But, when reality flew back and I realized what I had just done, dread filled my body.

Everyone stared at me shocked. Brant stood up, coming to my side, his face full of confusion at my outburst. We all stared silently, trapped in a strange sort of limbo.

Until, Haymitch laughed.

"What's going on?" Peeta suddenly appeared, glancing bewildered between Haymitch on the ground and me nursing my fist.

Haymitch picked himself off the floor, chortling away. "You've done it again, sweetheart. In twenty-four years, you're the biggest surprise I've had." He put himself back in his chair and grabbed a new glass, "I can't say that no ones wanted to hit me, but you're the only one whose had the balls to do it."

"You_ hit_ Haymitch?" Peeta questioned, fighting a smile. "Wow, Rix."

"I can't believe nobody has ever done that before." I told him seriously.

"Katniss almost stabbed me last year." Haymitch remembered, grinning grimly.

"Good times," Katniss smiled fondly. "You deserved it."

"No point arguing there." Brant agreed.

"Well, look who's all teaming up against Haymitch." He snorted, guzzling his wine.

Brant shrugged, side glancing at me with a smile. He was done playing the over protective brother and was back on my side.

"Am I done being scolded?" I asked impatiently, "I think I should get to bed a decent hour tonight."

Haymitch rolled his eyes. "You need to talk to your stylist before bed. They need to go over interview wear."

I groaned inwardly, just wanting to be alone.

"And, don't go near the weapons again, sweetheart." My mentor finished.

I pursed my lips, "Whatever you say, _sweetheart_." I lied. I was definitely going to be spending some time at the weapons tomorrow. What was I supposed to do for my personal training session if I couldn't touch a bow or knife? Run around like maniac? Everyone knew that the highest scores went to those who could wield weapons, not the ones who could barely tie knots and pick out nightlock from a bunch of berries.

Cinna made his way towards me as Brant led Portia to his room. He held a book of his designs that I had seen hundreds of times. He led me to the kitchen table as Haymitch, Katniss, and Peeta stayed in the living room, most likely to eavesdrop.

I plopped in the chair I had eaten breakfast in this morning as Cinna stayed standing.

"I'm not going to stay long. I know when you want to be alone." He smiled knowingly. "I just thought I would show you some ideas I had for your dress for the interview." Cinna opened the book up carefully and flipped through pages of gorgeous dresses that had lace or glitter in all the colors of the rainbow. I nodded at the right moments and made noises of agreement but I wasn't really paying attention.

Cinna chuckled quietly and I glanced at him curiously, "What?"

"I also know when you're not paying attention to anything I say." He told me.

"Whatever you put me in will be dazzling and perfect, Cinn." I smiled lazily, "I have complete trust in you."

He sighed in exasperation, "At least give me a color to work with."

"Black," I said. Black was sexy and sheer. You could never go wrong with black. And, also, it wasn't red, like the Girl on Fire.

_"Black,"_ He repeated. "I can work with that." He gave me a kiss on the forehead and disappeared.

I pulled myself off the couch and walked through the living area to get to the bedrooms.

"Going to bed so soon?" Haymitch said smartly.

"Yeah," I said loudly, "I'm exhausted from learning all about pretty flowers and that one arrow I shot."

I heard Haymitch cackle as Katniss scolded him. Peeta told him to be kinder or he'd have me punch him again. I smiled lightly as I stalked down my hall and entered my room.

I turned on the forest and threw myself into bed, not even bothering to take off my clothes.

"You heard what Haymitch said." Brant scolded. We were standing in from of all the tantalizingly dangerous weapons in the Training Center that I couldn't use.

I rolled my eyes, brushing a stray hair away. "Look but don't touch. Got it, _Ma_."

I earned myself a brotherly eye roll and a few chuckles from our new companions.

"You guys are _too_ funny!" Narina, the dirty blonde haired tribute from District 4, declared.

Reid, the male tribute from 4, snorted loudly, playing with a silver, expensive spear. He shook his curly bright yellow locks and chucked the spear at the training dummy an impressive fifty feet away and hit it straight on the bull's eye.

He sent me a cocky smile as I raised a brow. Where all careers this self-obsessed? When I thought of Finnick, I knew the answer was yes.

I was still unsure why I was stuck hanging out with Brant and the careers from 4. Yesterday, Brant had spent all his time with the careers, specifically the ones from 4. I had my suspicions that Finnick was behind this set up but I had already planned to tell Brant we couldn't ally with them before personal sessions tonight.

I walked away from my companions and fiddled with the knives. Apparently I was followed.

"So," Reid asked in his deep gravely voice, "You're dating my mentor?"

I glared up at him. "Is that what Finnick told you?"

He shrugged, "I've heard the rumors. I've seen it for myself."

"Seen what?" I asked suspiciously.

"You in," Reid grinned at me mysteriously, "Compromising positions."

I nodded, not wanting to comment. I kept moving along down the line of weapons until I was stopped by a large body.

"Shouldn't you be over by the dangerous berries and your little friend?" Malum jeered.

I bit my tongue, not wanting to start a confrontation.

"Do I scare you?" He grinned maliciously.

"No." I told him fearlessly, though—on the inside—I was terrified.

He smirked, "I don't believe you." Malum leaned his stubbled face in close to mine, "It's a shame I'm going to have to kill you. Such a beautiful girl as yourself..." He shook his head shamefully, _"Shame."_ He played with my stray hair.

"Sounds like you're real broken up over it." I muttered back, trying to get away from his hot, uncomfortable breath.

"Hey, asshole." Reid pushed himself between us, "She's got a boyfriend." He glanced Malum up and down with a condescending voice, "And aren't you just _so_ sure of yourself, thinking you're just gonna take Rixa out without a fight? I think that's..._adorable_."

Malum clenched his jaw, his fists by his sides, ready to slug one of us in the face. And, all because Reid was questioning his masculinity. Boys were so juvenile.

But, it wasn't Malum who made the first move, or Reid. It was Freddy. Little Freddy Mason who was half Malum's size and a fourth of his weight. He threw his small eleven-year-old body smack dab into Malum's tree branch legs and knocked him to the ground.

"Leave Rixa alone!" He told Malum fearlessly, pushing himself off the ground before Malum could murder him.

_"Freddy!"_ I cried, hurrying over and grabbing Freddy out of Malum's reach, "_Stop!_ What are you doing?" The look on Malum's face told me that he wouldn't forget this anytime soon.

"I was protecting you like you're going to protect me!" He told me simply. Freddy's big brown eyes glared at Malum as he scrambled off the floor.

Malum shook his head, smiling mechanically. "Look at Capitol's little posse. Guess I know who I'm gonna take out first in the arena." He raised a blonde brow in the direction of an unphased Freddy, spat, and swaggered away.

"Freddy," I grabbed his shoulders roughly, "What were you thinking? I was handling it. There's no reason for you to get killed over some stupid confrontation!"

Freddy gulped and looked up at me with those big, sad eyes, "I was looking out for you! If our paths cross, we'll look out for each other, remember?"

I let out a sigh, chewing agitatedly on my lips. "What am I going to do with you?"

Freddy gave me that winning smile that he greeted me with every time I looked at him. "I'm not afraid. I could take him again."

A small smile fell from my lips as I ruffled his unruly locks. Reid looked at me like I was insane. And maybe I was, taking care of this kid was proving to be suicidal. For both of us.

"You know we have no choice but to ally with you and Brant," He peered cautiously at Freddy, "And apparently the little Mason. We can't be with the careers this year. Not with targets on our backs."

"I'm sorry." I told him sincerely. What could I do now? Reid was right. They were social outcasts from the careers because they were fraternizing with Brant and me. I had no choice but to ally with them (even though every fiber of my being told me they'd kill me at first chance). But, I didn't want their blood on my hands as well as Freddy's.

This was all Finnick Odair's fault.

"Don't be." Reid said gruffly, "Narina and I trust Finnick and he told us to trust you. So, we trust you." Yes, this was definitely all Finnick's fault.

I nodded firmly as Freddy tugged on my arm. I peered down at him and he pointed to something across the way. "Come on! I wanna introduce you to my new friend!"

I inwardly groaned. I didn't need another person to take care of. Reid snorted and headed back off to Narina and Brant as I followed Freddy. He led me all the way to some fire lighting station on the other side of the training room and showed me a small, blonde girl. She was maybe twelve. Another kid with no hope of survival. She peered up at me, her face frightened, her hazel eyes watering. It was obvious.

"This," Freddy gestured to the girl, "Is Anna. She's from District Nine. They make grain."

That seemed like unnecessary information because I knew District 9 made grain but Freddy was trying to make this girl feel welcome. I didn't know what he wanted me to do about it. I couldn't let her in my little posse as Malum dubbed it. As terrible as it was to even think it, this girl wasn't going to last through the first day. I wasn't even sure if Freddy would. But at least there was some small chance, some hope that he could. He was a tough kid and had a smart sister who also happened to be a victor. Freddy would go somewhere; I just didn't know how far he would go.

"Hi, Anna." I smiled kindly, "I'm Rixa from District 12. We make coal."

For some strange reason, she giggled. It was some strange high pitched giggle, but I was glad I could momentarily take away the pain.

"You're the girl from the Capitol." She whispered, looking at me like I was some sort of idol. I was becoming less and less proud of the fact that I was from the very place that sent us to barbarically murder each other to become some name they wrote down in the books.

"My Ma's from the Capitol." I corrected her. Freddy tilted his head.

"Your Ma?" He questioned. "I thought you said you were from the Capitol. That's why you're the Capitol's Tribute."

"Well," I sighed, "My Ma was born in the Capitol and my dad was from District Twelve. I was born in Twelve and moved here a couple of years ago to work."

"Oh," Freddy nodded as if my complicated family history made any sense whatsoever. "What do you do in the Capitol?"

I wanted to laugh. How could I explain what I did to an innocent eleven-year-old boy? I was basically a prostitute like Gale had said, just not for sex per say. I was more of a companion.

"I'm an entertaining." That was the safest route. Because—on paper—that's exactly what I was.

"That sounds amazing." Anna sighed mournfully.

"It's alright." I smiled lightly.

"Rix!" Brant's voice shouted. "Hey, _Rix_!"

I glanced over to the sparring area. Narina was waving me over as Brant called out my name again. Reid was in conversation with the dark-skinned boy from District 11. I nodded quickly, not wanting to shout and draw more attention to us.

I turned back to Anna and gave her an encouraging smile. "It was really nice to meet you, Anna."

Her cheeks burned and she sent me a shy smile. "It was a dream come true to meet you, Rixa."

That choked me up a bit. But, why was this her dream come true? What was so exciting about me? If they lived my life, I didn't think they'd be that thrilled to meet me. But, since this was the last conversation I would ever have with this girl before she was murdered in the arena two days from now, I just grinned appreciatively back and swiftly made my way across the training room.

Freddy stayed behind to comfort the girl. That boy was a total sweetheart and it almost made me want to root for him. But, I had Brant to think about. Maybe if Brant wasn't here. No, then I would try to win and make my way back home. The only thing I was certain of was there was no way I would hurt Freddy. But, there was no way I could let him win, if he made it that far.

Why did he have to be so much like Koel?

Damn that little Freddy Mason with his big brown eyes that forced you to promise foolish things. Part of me hoped that our paths wouldn't cross in the arena so I wouldn't have to make good on our deal. The other part prayed that I would so I could keep him safe.

Oh, the dilemma raging in my mind. I guessed I would just have to wait until we were in the arena to see which part I favored more.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>_Sorry I've been MIA! __I've been dealing with some medical issues and haven't been able to sit. At all. So, I haven't been able to write until just now._

_So, out of the goodness of my heart. I typed this little diddy up for you all. It's long so I hope that makes up for it. Do you like how I think longness makes up for lack of updates? It makes sense in my fantastical brain (:_

_And, I'm a dirty filthy liar. I planned on making the Games begin in chapter 17, but this chapter went on way longer than I planned so I think it's offically being pushed back to 18. Next chapter is the private training sessions. The chapter after that is the event you've all been waiting for (interviews, duh). And the chapter after that will be the decent into the Games! So, _technically_ chapter 19 will be when the real Game starts but chapter 18 will end going into the Game. Sue me._


	16. The Roof

Brant and I sat alone in the waiting room. It was a quiet rectangular area that was cold and empty. All that was in there were the soft, leather bench and the lone light on the ceiling. It gave off a dim shine, keeping us mostly in the dark. And it felt like we were in the dark from everything. The room was sound proof and we had been sitting in it for nearly three hours, waiting to be called out into our training session.

We had to go in alone, one by one. This meant that Brant and I, being from District 12, were dead last. And that wasn't good for us. It was getting late and the Gamemakers were sure to be tired and hungry. I didn't see how they could possibly complain about having to sit and watch us do our best to impress them while they were waited upon graciously by Avoxes with the finest Capitol food. That thought was enough to make anyone scream but I had to keep my cool for Brant.

We hadn't spoken much since Peacekeepers had led us to this dreary room. We were both too nervous to speak. All Haymitch said to us before we were unceremoniously kicked out of the apartment was, "Play to your strengths."

I didn't have any strengths so that wasn't helpful in the slightest. He basically just threw me under the bus, to make a fool of myself in front of the Gamemakers. But, maybe this was a good thing. If Brant got a better score, he could get more sponsors. A good score from me could have been a big asset but Haymitch thought this was best. And I didn't want to be scolded again.

Brant cleared his throat and it echoed around the silent room. "Sorry," He muttered.

I sent him a small smile. "Got any idea what you're going to do out there?"

My brother snorted, shaking his blonde locks, "Not a clue. It's the most unhelpful Haymitch has ever been, don't you think?"

"I wouldn't say that he's ever been particularly forthcoming." I grumbled. Brant grabbed my hand, squeezing it.

"You'll do fine, Rix." He told me, "I know you will."

I ignored him, "You should throw some weights, show off your strength. Use any weapons you feel comfortable with. Weapons get the best scores. You've been working with the knives a lot. Do some throwing. As long as you act like you hit the intended target, they'll never know the difference." I rambled, hoping to give him the guidance that Haymitch hadn't.

He let out a shaky laugh and pulled me in for a hug, "Of course I already had that all planned out. I was just testing you to see if you'd be any help."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." I grinned, ruffling his hair.

Brant opened his mouth but was cut off by a loud_ ding_.

"Rixa Hart," A cool woman's voice echoed. The doors adjacent to our bench slid open mechanically and waited for me to enter my session.

I zipped up my training shirt and stood up. Glancing over at Brant, I could tell he was nervous for me. I'd be fine. I could always run. I slowly made my way to the doorway. Before I exited the room, Brant called me back.

"Rix," He smiled, "Use the bow like Gale taught you. If you act like you hit the intended target, they'll never know."

I nodded and stepped outside the room. The metal door slid shut behind me and Brant was gone from view. I stepped quietly through the long hall way, following the stream of lights that led the way. When I got close enough, another door pushed open and I was back in the familiar training center.

Up in their box, the Gamemakers were talking amongst themselves, laughing exuberantly and speaking loudly. The moment I walked into their range of vision, the room silenced. Eagerly they waited at the edge of their seats for me to blow their minds or do something amazing. But all I did was quickly walk up to the box and state my name. "Rixa Hart." I cleared my throat. "District Twelve."

They nodded, grinning mischievously.

"You may proceed, Miss Hart." Plutarch's voice called. It was strange for him to approach me in such a way since the last time I saw him, he was dancing with me and slipping me secrets about these very Games.

I walked up to the metal board that held the bow and arrow. I picked up the bulky bow and slung it carefully over my shoulder. I grabbed a few arrows and made my way to the dummy. Slowly, I raised it up, matching up the notch with the bull's eye.

I shakily pulled back the string, letting Gale's voice flow through my mind. _"Just take a deep breath, Rix. Let the world fly away, only you and the bow. You'll hit your target every time."_

I released the bow after a deep breath. I watched it fly and hit the dummy in the shoulder. I took my own advice and acted like I had meant to hit it. I sent a few more lousy arrows at the dummy, hitting everything but the bull's eye. I hoped they would take this as me shooting the victim with as many arrows as possible in some sick torturous way. They liked that sort of thing, right? Torture? Bloodshed? Yes, this would have to do.

But, I knew my lousy shots wouldn't be enough so I panicked. I took Haymitch's stupid advice and did what I did best: I ran.

I ran around the room, shooting arrows, looking like a lunatic. I sped around corners and even lit a fire and tied a knot. But it was all rushed and ridiculous. When Plutarch excused me five minutes later, I was shocked they had let me go on that long. I couldn't bring myself to look at the Gamemakers, to see their laughing faces telling me that I had no hope of saving my brother when I couldn't even be useful without tributes chasing after me in a high pressure situation.

I walked as casually as I could out the door before sprinting to the elevator. I pressed the button that led me to the person I needed the most at this moment. My breath caught in my throat and I found myself hyperventilating. Lifting my hand, I held myself up against the wall, trying not to faint.

When the door opened, I almost fell out. I sniffed, trying to catch my breath as I walked into the apartment.

"Rixa?" A gravely voice asked confused. Reid stood up from the table, his thin brows furrowed. "What are you doing here?"

Narina's soft voice questioned me, "Oh, my! Are you okay?"

"Where's Finnick?" I demanded feeling hot tears spring down my face. They looked at me bewildered. _"What?"_ I shouted, "What are you looking at me for? Are you seeing the true face of your ally? The hopeless girl who can't shoot a lousy arrow or—or save her own brother? I can't save Brant! _I'm useless_!" I clenched the table, my small frame racking with sobs.

Strong arms wrapped around me and carried me back into the elevator. I was being kicked out. I didn't blame them. They probably were unsettled by me revealing my weakness. Who wants to ally with a liability?

Oh, right. Me.

I felt the elevator go up but the arms never let go. Instead, they brushed through my hair until the _ding_ came. When the doors opened, it didn't reveal my apartment and worried mentors; it was the open air of the Capitol.

A clean paved rooftop was where we stepped out. Finnick carried me across the roof until we arrived at a designated spot. He crouched down and set me down in his arms, peeling away the stray hair attached to my wet face. I was rocked quietly in his arms until I calmed down enough to tell him what happened.

When I could finally breathe again, I stood up and made my way to the ledge and sat down, listening to the buzz of the Capitol, excited for the impending Games. I heard him come up behind me, waiting for me to speak.

"Do you ever wish you hadn't won?" I croaked, staring out at the colorful Capitol people. I could almost see the stats board from way over at the president's mansion.

Finnick took a deep breath and sat down next to me, not responding.

I wiped my face of any remaining tears, getting rid of the evidence of my weakness. I had broken my promise to myself. And, two career tributes, who were supposed to be our allies, would surely run back to the career pack and be warmly accepted with this little incident.

"I messed up, Finn." I told me, unable to look him in the eyes. "I ruined everything."

"Oh, Rix," Finnick sighed, wrapping his arms around me, "You didn't ruin anything. These scores don't matter much. Only high scores count. Nobody pays attention to the low ones."

"But, they will," I whispered, "Because I'm the Capitol's tribute. So cocky, so sure. And, I made a fool of myself in front of the Gamemakers, in front of your careers." I let out a shaky breath, trying to calm myself down.

"You didn't cry in front of the Gamemakers, did you?" He asked a bit horrified.

I bit my lip, shaking my head. He released a sigh of relief.

"I still have some dignity." I grumbled. Finnick sent me a smile to make me feel better. I rolled my eyes, heaving a sorrowful sigh. "I ran around the arena shooting arrows, missing targets. It was atrocious."

Finnick puckered out his lips, shaking his sandy hair, "Only you, Rixa Hart, would manage to do something so…ridiculous."

I snorted, "Is ridiculous another word for absurd, or embarrassing?"

"No, I meant what I said."

When I didn't respond, Finnick spoke up hesitantly. "I think we should talk about tomorrow."

"You're probably right." I said shortly.

Finnick pursed his lips, waiting for me to go on. He sighed exasperatedly at my stubborn expression. "Come on, Rix," He grinned cockily, "How bad can it be to be in love with me?"

"I don't know," I snorted, "I'll have to ask Annie."

He glanced around the city mournfully. He missed her, I knew that. But, there was something else in his face. Finnick shut his sea green eyes and when he opened them at me, it clicked.

It was guilt.

"She doesn't know." I realized. "Annie. She doesn't know about tomorrow."

Finnick frowned, running a hand through his nicely cut hair. "I haven't had time. I couldn't call her, we're always being watched!" He tried to reason when I stood up, backing away from Finnick, utterly horrified. "There's nothing I can do, Rix. I know what you're thinking and it's not like that!"

"But, it is Finnick!" I felt my skin crawling, "It's just what Peeta and Katniss did to me. I will _not_ do that to Annie!" I seethed, unraveling again. I was unstable, he knew that. After all that I had been through, how could anyone keep expecting things from me? What happened last year was what destroyed the little life I had left in me and I would never let what I went through happen to someone, especially not poor Annie Cresta. She was even more unstable than I was!

"Rix, it's not like that!" Finnick tried.

I shook my head fiercely, _"No!"_ I screamed.

Finnick crushed me in his arms, rocking me back and forth again, shushing me. "I know how you're feeling, Rix."

"No," I moaned, "You've never given yourself to someone completely and have it ripped away and dangled in front of your face daily, knowing you could never be enough or have them again. You have _no_ idea what that's like."

He gripped me tighter, "Annie will know. She _knows_ I love her, that you're practically my sister! She _knows_, Rix."

"She knows," I murmured back. He was right. What they had was stronger than anything else in the world. They were survivors, they were older and madly in love. If anyone could make it, it was Annie and Finnick. Something as trivial as lies in an interview could keep them apart. They had both been through them, they told their lies. Annie would see the lie that Finnick and I were putting on.

"She'd want me to do it, to save you." He whispered._ "Annie knows."_

Annie knew that this would save Brant; keep me alive as long as possible.

"Who knows," Finnick let go of me, staring at me with teary, hopeful eyes, "Maybe she'll be in one of her episodes and won't even see the interview."

"She'll be watching. She knows you're there, it's the only way she can be with you when you're gone." I was speaking from experience. That was what I had done with Peeta. I watched because I wanted to know he was okay, to be with him again, and to take him away with me. But, instead, I got heartbreak. I only prayed Annie would be well enough to know this was all a ploy.

"Haymitch will kill us if you don't. Especially if you messed up tonight as bad as you say." He told me solemnly.

"I thought you said the scores didn't matter."

"They don't. But, I need to do _something_ before you leave." He said quietly.

"Why?" I breathed, hugging myself. "You've already been my friend. You took Jay's place. You've helped me through everything you could. You don't owe me anything!"

Finnick leaned himself against the marble ledge, letting the light breeze roll through his disheveled hair. "You asked me if I ever wished I hadn't won."

I nodded but he couldn't see.

"Every day until I let myself fall in love with Annie. Then, it was only periodically when I felt like I was endangering her. I can't ever really be with her, not with Snow in power. The more I was kept locked away in the Capitol, the more the feeling came back." He told me in a strong voice, keeping his eyes locked on Snow's mansion. "So, on one of my worst days, I barely got away from a pack of malicious suitors and ran into a nervous young girl. So innocent, so happy. After all you'd been through, you could still be happy and it put my life into prospective.

"So, I took you under my wing, thinking I could help you navigate the Capitol safely. Keep you sane, be your friend. But, in reality, you were the one who kept [i]me[/i] grounded. You saved my life." he chuckled, tears streaming silently down him face, "I can't let you go without a fight."

"You've done all you can do, Finn." I told him, leaning lightly against his toned arm, "But, I'll always love you. We saved each other."

Finnick sniffed, "Let me do the interview, to thank you for everything you've done for me."

"Being in love with me for the cameras is how you thank me?" I retorted, removing myself from him to the ledge.

"No," Finnick shook his head, "But it will save you."

"Well," I sighed, standing up, "I've already agreed to do it so you're going to have to thank me some other way." I smirked lightly. "In secrets."

"I'll add your name to the long list of my clients." Finnick joked, standing up as well. "We should get you back. They're probably all worried sick about you."

I groaned, "I don't want to face them. I don't want to tell them."

Finnick grabbed my hand, walking with me along the roof, "You don't have to tell them anything. Just say you did your best and we'll see what happens tomorrow when they announce the scores."

I nodded as we entered the elevator. I pressed _12_ and then _4_.

"Brant won't be mad. You know he won't care." Finnick consoled, squeezing my hand as the elevator went down one floor.

"Thank you," I told him sincerely, letting go of his hand, "I'll see you tomorrow night."

He peered at me, unconvinced, "You promise?"

I smiled lightly, "When have I ever lied to you?"

He rolled his eyes, "We need to make it real. It won't be like Katniss and Peeta. He loved her, she was oblivious. We're supposed to be_ in_ love." The playfulness was gone, a pained look replaced it. "We're going to have to be…intimate."

Something in the bottom of my stomach squirmed. "We have to kiss." I stated.

"It's just as weird for me as for you." He told me, "But, we can act, right?"

I scrunched up my face, "Out of every girl in the Capitol, you have to pretend love the one who's practically your sister."

"This is gross." Finnick laughed.

"I promise not to vomit on your expensive suit." He continued to laugh, pulling me in for a hug as the doors opened.

"Thanks, Rix. I appreciate that." He said, releasing me. I leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

Finnick glanced sideways at something in the apartment, "You missed." I gave him a perplexed look.

Finnick leaned in, pressed his warm lips against mine. I heard something shattered to the floor. I jumped back and saw Katniss sitting at the table, glancing between the elevator and Peeta who had dropped his plate and was gawking at us. I slammed on the close button and locked us back in the elevator.

"What was that for?" I hissed.

"Practice." Finnick told me innocently, "You can't freak out like this tomorrow."

"I know." I mumbled bashfully. "It's just, no ones—I haven't kissed anyone since Peeta—" I gulped.

Finnick shook his head, "You deserve better. You deserve more then waiting on a guy who will never be good enough for you."

I looked away, feeling ashamed, "Maybe I'm still hoping that one day he'll wake up and realize how stupid he was."

"He'll only be able to do that if you win."

I bit my tongue and opened the elevator door. Peeta and Katniss were gone. An Avox was cleaning up the mess.

"I didn't vomit." I told Finnick smartly as I exited the elevator.

"We'll see how you do with cameras, half the Capitol in the audience, and the world watching from their television sets." Finnick snorted, leaning back against the wall. I suddenly thought of Gale. He would be watching it, how would he feel about all this?

"I'll manage." I told him, letting a smile fall from my lips, "I've been told I'm strong."

"The strongest woman I know." Finnick grinned before the doors shut.

"Well, sweetheart," Haymitch chuckled behind me, "I didn't think you had it in you."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>_Thanks for all the reviews. They make my day! (:_

_The next chapter is the interviews! OMG. So excited to write them! I'll try to get it out as soon as possible but it's going to be a_ long _one! (:_


	17. The Score

I sat on the fluffy, large yellow couch, my hands locked around my knees, making them go bloodless. No one was speaking as the large television plastered against one of the walls in the living area turned on. The scores were out. And I was terrified.

Brant seemed fine. Maybe a little anxious but not the wreck I was. That was good; at least Brant was confident about his performance.

I peered over at Haymitch who had been pleased by my display of affection with Finnick, if only it hadn't been to hurt Peeta. No matter how many times I told him that I hadn't meant for Peeta to see it or to hurt him, he still wouldn't listen.

"Peeta and I are through. He has no reason to get upset over a simple kiss!" I growled.

Haymitch had simply rolled his eyes, "If you can make that boy believe it, you can make the world believe. Just turn up the heat with Finnick tomorrow, sweetheart."

"Turn up the heat? What? Do you want me to have sex with him on television?" I asked sardonically.

Haymitch shrugged, "What ever it takes."

As I peered at Haymitch, he gazed back at me with the same satisfied look on his face. I could hear his voice saying those last words to me. Well, I was going to do what ever it took to save Brant. And after the performance I made at the training session, maybe having publicized sex with Finnick was what I would have to do.

But, that thought made my skin crawl.

On my right was Cinna who had come to be supportive, but I thought he secretly just wanted to steal me as soon as possible to start getting ready for the interviews in four hours. Next to him were Portia (who I suspected had the same agenda as Cinna) and Katniss and Peeta.

Peeta hadn't said a single word to me since I left for training sessions when he wished me luck. Now, it was as if he was pretending I didn't exist. It was the same tactic I had used this past year with Peeta. It felt strange to have the roles reversed. I tried to speak with him multiple times to set the record straight, that Finnick was just being an ass to Peeta because of what had happened between us, but he had vanished into thin air the night before. When I asked Haymitch where Peeta had gone, all he said was, "Out."

Katniss had been just as unhelpful because she had disappeared as well. At breakfast I sat next to Peeta and tried to start up a conversation with him but all I got out of him was a grunt and an eye roll. He was being completely ridiculous and immensely unfair about all of this. Peeta was free to marry Katniss but I couldn't even _pretend_ to date someone?

So, after his eye roll, I decided that I was done trying. He would have to live with the way he treated me because I wasn't going to come out of the arena to patch things up with him.

Even as I glanced over at Peeta, he remained in deep conversation with Katniss, not even looking my way once.

_Fine_ I thought _Two can play at that game._

Caesar Flickerman, the Games commentator and the man who was going to interview all the tributes tonight, flashed on the screen, smiling his blindingly white smile. Every year Caesar dyed his hair, eye lids, and lips a different color for the Games. This year they were a deep royal purple. The same color as my dress. I wondered if Cinna had planned that.

Caesar started with Ridley from District 1. She earned a nine. No one was surprised by that. Malum earned a ten and I could feel my hope slipping away. We listened in silence as the scores were called off. Some earned additional comments. Effie popped in as soon as Malum was called and put in her two cents every other tribute.

Velvet, nine. Gusto, nine. Narina earned an eight, Reid a ten. The careers were high as usual. No one really stuck out like during the reapings, mostly mixed to lower scores with the rest of the districts. The redhead from 5 earned a six.

I held my breath as District 7 was up.

Caesar looked into the camera seriously, "From District Seven, Roma Ovaltree: a seven." I waited as he looked down at his score sheet. I pushed myself up, leaning forward in anticipation. "And Frederick Mason: a _nine_!" I let out a shaky sigh a relief. How the hell had Freddy managed that? Maybe he wasn't the one who needed helping after all. I was looking more pathetic by the minute.

"Looks like Freddy might have been playing you." Peeta said coldly. How did he know I had been allying with Freddy?

The look on Brant's face gave him away.

"He's Johanna's brother, not some helpless child." I informed him. District 9 flashed on the screen. Anna had received a three.

"Like you?" Peeta shot back, glaring at me.

I pursed my lips tightly, "Freddy's never hidden his talent from me. There was never any doubt he was skilled."

Before Peeta could say something ruder to me, Katniss shushed him as District 11 was announced. Bruno earned himself a nine as well.

Now, the moment we'd all been waiting for. The worst thing about being from District 12 was you were always last.

Caesar looked genuinely excited. His purple brows rose considerably and his smooth voice called Brant's name. "And from District Twelve, Brant Hart. With an eight."

Brant smiled, letting out a relived sigh. I hugged him, laughing nervously because I was next. "And, his sister, Rixa Hart…" He paused for dramatic affect, masking whether he was surprised by my score or disappointed. "A _ten_!"

I almost fainted.

"Rixa!" Brant cried, grinning madly, "Rix, that's amazing!"

I was in shock. I glanced over at Haymitch for approval and he nodded his shaggy head, but his face wasn't as smug as I thought it would be. In fact, Haymitch looked positively grave.

He obviously should be thinking that this was proving the point of what he said on the train. But, he wasn't happy with my score at all. Was it too low? Katniss had earned an eleven last year. Maybe he'd hoped I would do the same.

I felt overwhelmed. My eyes burned and I couldn't comprehend what was going on. "I shouldn't have gotten that score." I managed to get out.

"That's what I said last year." Katniss told me. "I guess they must have liked whatever you did."

All I did was make a fool of myself. Nothing worthy of a ten. This was a mistake.

"Oh, Rix," Brant groaned, "Don't complain! You got a great score."

I managed a weak smile before Cinna rescued me.

"We should get preparations started. Tonight is the biggest night. It's the last thing people are going to remember before you enter the Games tomorrow." Cinna said calmly. I glanced anxiously at Brant. Tomorrow the Games started. The thought was absolutely terrifying.

Portia took Brant away. "See you tonight, Rix." He smiled nervously. "Don't let that score go to your head." He joked before disappearing in the elevator.

Cinna made his way to the elevator, waiting for me. I slowly made my way over before Katniss stopped me.

"Wait." She said, hurrying over to me. Peeta eyed us quietly. He hadn't had much of a reaction to my score. "Can I talk to you for a second?" Katniss asked.

I glanced over at Cinna and he nodded. Katniss led me away from the others to her room and shut the door behind her.

"What's up?" I asked nonchalantly. Katniss turned to me with a determined expression on her face.

"You're scared." She said plainly.

"That's a given." I nodded. She cracked a small smile before getting serious again.

"They're going to target you. Especially since you got a better score then most of them." By them, she meant the careers.

"I know." I muttered. "They shouldn't have given me that score." And Katniss understood the double meaning behind those words. They shouldn't have given me that score because it put an even bigger target on my back. It was going to make keeping Brant alive even harder.

"Obviously you've proven yourself or else they wouldn't have given you that score. That's a career score." Katniss informed me, "What did you do?"

"Shot some lousy arrows." I answered, "Ran around like a lunatic." I muttered as well.

"You must be fast." Katniss apparently didn't think what I did was as stupid as it felt.

"They certainly thought so."

"Use that." She told me urgently. When did Katniss become my mentor? "Do whatever you did in there and replicate it in the arena. It's what I did and it worked for me. I know you don't plan on getting out alive, but Haymitch does and Peeta hopes, so I'll be the cold one and help you get what you want."

I wasn't sure if it was so I would be out of the picture or she was listening to what I wanted because no one else was. Katniss was unreadable.

"Thank you." I uttered. I stopped for a moment before adding, "He's mad at me."

"He'll get over it." Katniss assured me. "You're leaving tomorrow, probably for good. He'll get over it or live with it forever."

I swallowed, changing the subject. "I should go. Cinna always makes me look at everything he makes me for an hour and _then_ we make final touches before we even start getting me dressed." I chuckled lightly. Katniss agreed and opened the door for me.

"The interview was probably to worst part of this whole thing." She admitted. "Sometimes I think I'd prefer the arena over public speaking."

"You were great." I told her.

"And you'll be even better." Katniss said knowingly. "Haymitch is convinced you'll be unforgettable."

"That's the idea, isn't it?" I shrugged, "If they forget you, how can they sponsor you?"

Katniss smiled grimly, "Good point."

We walked back out to the living area, breaking up a deep chat between the boys.

"Have a good chat, sweetheart?" Haymitch asked innocently.

"Which sweetheart are you talking to?" Katniss asked smartly.

Haymitch rolled him eyes, directing his attention to me, "Go with Cinna, sweetheart. See you tonight." He said mischievously. I sent him a glare before following Cinna into the elevator and down to _S3_.

Cinna had decided to forgo the usual preparations we did together. He did my makeup before showing me my outfit when all I wanted was to see what I was to wear. I was regretting not being more helpful when Cinna wanted my opinion. The anticipation was killing me. It could be anything. All I knew was it was black.

My makeup was dramatic again, dark and bold. The black liner went out further then my eyes, giving the appearance that I had wings. Next, he went to work on my hair. Cinna took his time, delicately intertwining my blonde strands into a loose side braid. We didn't speak for a long time, just enjoying each others company.

He painted my lips and nails a sparkling gold before disappearing into the closet and pulling out a mobile rack that held two clean bags.

Two dresses? Was he expecting me to change halfway through the interview?

Cinna turned around, smiling tentively. "Since you were so unhelpful, I decided to give myself full creative reign." He unzipped one of the bags and pulled out a gorgeous champagne colored dress. It was simply and elegant. "Besides, black is a mourning color." He added.

My breath had been taken away as I felt the smooth silkiness. "It's amazing, Cinn."

"I'm glad you like it." Cinna smiled knowingly. I glanced over at the other bag, questioning Cinna.

"What's in that one?"

"Just in case." Cinna said casually, pulling out my interview dress and handing it to me.

Just in case I win. That's what it was for. I almost wanted to see what it looked like because I would never get to wear it.

I didn't respond as I took the dress from him. He helped me slip into and handed me a pair of black, lethal looking stilettos. They were as uncomfortable as they were intimidating. Cinna wheeled me around to the mirror and I was once again at loss of words. The top of the silky dress was wrapped snuggly and the sleeves were daintily off my pale shoulders. It dipped down a bit in the chest, showing just the right amount of skin.

I smiled sadly at Cinna. "Thank you." Was all I could think to say. He was a life savor for Brant and me. He deserved so much more than just two words.

"I know." Cinna said, reading my mind. "Just go out there and show the world the fearless Rixa Hart who dazzles the Capitol and earns a ten. She can do anything." And his gaze wandered to the other dress.

"Cinna," I tried to explain I wasn't coming back but he cut me off.

"It's time." He glanced at his watch, "Interviews are starting in fifteen minutes. We need to get the Capitol's tribute upstairs."

I grinned appreciatively and followed Cinna into the elevator again, off to the interviews and Finnick.

Brant was waiting for me in the back of the tribute line looking as elegant as me. Portia had dress him in a champagne colored suit with black button up and a gold tie. He smiled brightly when he saw me and I couldn't help myself from returning it. Brant's emotions were contagious.

"I like this one much better," He told me, "Much less cleavage."

I snorted, punching him lightly in the chest. "Grow up." He childishly stuck out his tongue out at me and I noticed that some of the tributes were eying us. I cleared my throat as mentors came up to their tributes for last minute advice.

"I spent _all_ day with Effie learning how to talk in an interview." Brant whined as we waited for Haymitch.

I chortled, "I spent the day with Cinna getting ready. This," I motioned to my body, "Took about four hours."

Brant's eyes widened, "I didn't realize you were so hard to make pretty!"

I smack his chest, glaring at Brant. "I have never been so offended in my life."

"Oh, calm down, Rix." Brant snorted, "We're still the best looking pair here."

Haymitch popped up, more sober than usual. "I wanted to be as alert as possible for tonight." He said pointedly at me.

"Maybe you would feel more comfortable with a little buzz." I remarked. Brant glanced between us, puzzled.

"Make me proud, sweetheart." Haymitch smirked. "We're all counting on you."

"So, no pressure then?" Brant asked.

Haymitch patted Brant on the back. "Exactly." Haymitch glanced at me, wanting to say more but only looked pointedly at Brant. Obviously what ever he wanted to say, he didn't want Brant to hear it. With one final nod, Haymitch disappeared.

I glanced around the room as Katniss and Peeta came up to Brant. I caught Freddy waving excitedly at me. I smiled and returned it, noticing the gorgeous brunette dressed in a tight red dress standing in front of him. She turned around impatiently and scowled at me.

I felt like a deer caught in the head lights. Johanna probably thought I was going to use Freddy and get him killed but I had no intention of them. She was a victor; she was paranoid for her brother. There was no point in telling her I was just looking out for him. The only person she trusted was herself.

Her brown eyes blazed with anger and desperation before turning back to Freddy, forcing his attention back to her.

"Are you even listening, Rixa?" Peeta's annoyed voice brought me back.

I snapped my head to him, a bit dazed, "Wha—sorry, what happened?"

"I _said_ are you ready?" Peeta asked impatiently. I could tell he was worried sick. Apparently, Katniss was right. He was getting over the kiss.

"I think so." I answered. "But even if I wasn't…"

Peeta allowed himself to smile slightly, "You'll be fine. You've always been good with people."

"Thanks." I breathed, "Listen, I wanted to talk to you about last night—"

Peeta's eyes flashed with anger and his face tightened, "It's fine, really. Finnick seems like a great guy. I'm happy for you."

"You sound over the moon," I said sarcastically. "But, Finnick was just being an ass. We're not really—"

"Peeta," Katniss said suddenly, "We've got to go."

Ridley's name was being called by Caesar Flickerman. The interviews had started.

I reached out for Peeta's hand to make him stay so I could explain, but he shook me off and followed Katniss to find their designated seat in the front row.

"What happened with Finnick?" Brant asked, glaring.

"Nothing, Brant." I sighed, "Peeta just caught us—"

"Kissing?" Brant finished. So he knew. He seemed a bit peeved for a moment but relaxed. "As long as he makes you happy, I'm happy."

I smiled lightly, hugging Brant. "Love you, bro."

I felt sick to my stomach not telling Brant the truth, but I guessed the less people who knew about this, the better.

The line slowly began to disappear as tributes gave their interviews. Some were charming or seductive, cocky or coy. I was about to ask Brant what his interview strategy was when Freddy's name was called.

"Good luck, Freddy." I told him as he walked forward.

"Thanks, Rixa." He grinned, "I got this in the bag." And I'm sure he did.

I felt a little uncomfortable when the boy from 11, Bruno, glanced at me with his unreadable expression. I didn't need another person adding me to their hit list so I ducked behind Brant until Bruno was called.

After Bruno left, it was just Brant and I. He gripped my hand, giving a comforting squeeze as we listened to the crowd's reaction to Bruno. He must be one of the biggest contenders besides Malum, one of the most sponsored.

Bruno exited the stage as Caesar announced me.

"I think I'm speaking for all of us when I say that the moment you've all been waiting for is here!" Caesar's voice shouted exuberantly, "Our very own tribute, Rixa Hart!"

I felt nauseas. I was going to vomit.

"I can't," I told Brant fearfully, "I can't do it."

He didn't understand what I meant. Brant thought this was just stage fright but this was a matter of destroying Finnick's relationship with Annie. This was about reliving that night from Peeta's perspective, only I wasn't in love with Finnick.

"Rixa," Brant smiled, "You'll be fine. I know you will. They love you already. Just go out there and make them want you even more."

I nodded, pulling Brant in for one last hug. I quickly walked as Caesar asked for me again. I rounded the corner and pulled back the thick red velvet curtain that hid us backstage and Caesar Flickerman and all his glory stood expectantly before me.

"Sorry, about that," I smiled apologetically as the crowd erupted into applause and screams, "Got held up back stage."

Caesar grinned his large blindingly white trademark smile, "I think you've been forgiven, my dear."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>_How'd you like the interviews?_

_Just kidding!_

_So, this chapter went on way longer than I thought it would and I didn't want to put out a thirty page chapter to I'm splitting the interview up. Sorry about that. It had a little bit of everything though! And some Katniss which a lot of you guys wanted. There was a little Peeta but I think the next chapter will have quite a bit more (;_

_I'm going to stop guessing when the arena is coming because I keep ending up writing more and more and pushing the date back. But, I_ promse_ to have in out within the next three chapters! _

_Sorry about that...haha. Hope you'll forgive me!_

_Almost at 50 comments. Crazy! Thank you guys so much for all the love. You guys are the bee's knees! (:_


	18. The Proposal

"Well, come on over, my dear!" Caesar chuckled, holding out his hand for me. I put on a winning smile and strutted over to him, beaming at the audience. They couldn't get enough of me. Caesar motioned to the plush, comfy red chairs and we took our seats.

"You look absolutely radiant, if I do say so myself." Caesar commented, looking me up and down. "Absolutely radiant."

"You're too kind." I grinned, "I love the color this year," I motioned to his hair, "It matches my tribute parade dress perfectly."

Caesar leaned in, clasping a hand to his chest, "I think its fate." The crowd guffawed together. We allowed the crowd time to have their fun before settling in and the real interview started.

I smoothed out the ruffles on my dress and caught Finnick sitting in the front row with all the other victors and important citizens of the Capitol. He smiled encouragingly at me but I only felt sick. Directly next to him was the vicious and gorgeous Johanna Mason. She glared suspiciously at me again. In the center of the front row sat the newest victors, Katniss and Peeta. Katniss sat calmly, hand in hand with Peeta. Peeta furrowed his blonde brows at Finnick, and then turned to face me, pursing his lips.

"You look stunning, Rixa Hart. You really do." Caesar commented theatrically. He moved in a bit, glancing around dramatically, "But, let's get down to business."

"Let's." I nodded, feigning excitement.

"I think I speak for everyone when my heart broke when you and Brant were chosen." He glanced around, giving everyone in the audience time to agree emotionally. I smiled sadly.

"Thank you." I nodded, "That's very sweet of you, but I guess it all boils down to this: The districts rebelled and no one born in the districts is safe, no matter how much time they spend in the Capitol. I was angry at first but now I realize that this is the price we pay for the Rebellion."

The look on Caesar's face secretly told me that was a safe answer. His blue eyes prayed that I knew I was being watched scrupulously. I flashed him a quick knowing smile.

"I think we were all a bit misty eyed when you and your brother were reaped." Caesar said solemnly, staring straight into my eyes.

"I was definitely a little misty eyed." I joked lightly, catching Haymitch cracking a grin despite himself.

Caesar reached out for my hand, petting it comfortingly. I pursed my lips, not wanting to talk about the reaping, or anything else for that matter, in front of these nosey, carefree Capitol citizens.

"You asked for volunteers, Rixa," Caesar said, quiet enough to sound like we were having an intimate conversation but loud enough for the audience to catch onto every word. "Not for yourself—but, for your brother. How did it feel when no one spoke up?"

It was time to turn on the sympathetic charm. "Absolutely devastating." I sighed mournfully, "Brant and I are the means of survival for my Ma and the twins. One of us won't be coming back and it will either be the one who brings in the money or the one who takes care of our family now that our dad and older brother are gone." Like clock-work, I allowed a tear to slip down my face before casually wiping it away. I was going to milk this for all it was worth, pretending that being up on this stage for the Capitol's amusement was everything I could dream of. I was going to make them cry over my pathetic story and sponsor Brant and me.

Caesar nodded emphatically, "You've suffered many losses already. If you won, how would you cope with Brant's death?"

It was an unsettling question. I hadn't really thought about how I would cope with Brant's death because I had no intention of surviving. But, I couldn't say that. That wouldn't get us sponsors.

So, instead, I glanced at the audience with puppy-dog eyes and whispered, "Honestly, I don't know. Death isn't something you can prepare for. It just creeps up on you and takes away everything you love." I swallowed, feeling a very real lump rise in my throat. "No amount of glory or money will make up for Brant's life so I just don't know what I would do without him."

I thought about my words as Caesar bowed his head, peering solemnly at the audience for special effect. My words were getting to him, that was what he was telling them. If he believed, they should too.

"That's terrible." Caesar licked his lips, looking sadly at me, "Truly terrible."

There was a prolonged moan as someone in the audience broke into tears. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from breaking character.

"You're been with the Capitol for how long?" Caesar suddenly changed the subject. I went along; he was a professional crowd pleaser. I trusted Caesar to play with the Capitol's emotions to get us sponsors.

"About six years." I knew what was coming.

"I can't imagine how the people of the Capitol must be feeling that you're being sent into the arena. You're practically one of us!" Caesar looked disgusted.

I smiled lightly, shaking my head. "I was shocked when I was chosen. But, my name was still in the Reaping. Nobody from the Districts is immune. I was foolish to think otherwise."

Caesar shook his head, smiling despite himself. He stared at me like I was something unheard of. "You are a very brave girl, Rixa Hart."

I thanked him quietly, waiting for the moment.

"But, no one can be fearless forever."

It was coming, I could feel it. I was also starting to get nauseas.

Caesar grinned mischievously, "Is there a special someone you turn to when it's too much? A certain victor, perhaps?"

Before I could stop myself, my eyes strayed to Peeta sitting in the front row. He furrowed his blonde brows at me, unsure whether he was the certain victor we were referring too. With all my heart I wanted to say yes, Peeta was the one who picked me up when I fell down, the one who held me when Jay died and promised things would be okay. But, today, Finnick was playing the part of Peeta. And I despised myself for what I was about to do.

"I guess the secrets out." I muttered, shifting my gaze to Finnick. He nodded shortly before putting on the smile that made the Capitol fall in love. "Would you like me to bring him up here?"

Caesar smiled bashfully, shrugging, "Well, I'm really not supposed to have anyone but the tribute up here, but how can I say no to either of you?"

I forced the happiest smiled I could muster before standing up. Peeta peered up at me with his big blue eyes, thinking I was walking towards him. Instead, I held out my hand and batted my lashes, "Finn, come on up."

I couldn't bring myself to glance back at Peeta, to witness his reaction.

Caesar stood up, starting an uproarious applause. Finnick waved to the crowd, bowing ceremoniously to them, drinking all the attention in because it was what the Capitol wanted. He was always so good at playing his part. Finnick was the most self-less person I knew.

Finnick greeted me happily after jumping buoyantly up the stairs to the stage. He smiled brightly at me, though I could tell he wished he didn't have to do this. I was right there with him.

"Hey, Rix," He chirped to me, pecking me on the cheek. Caesar guffawed heartily, embracing Finnick in warm hug and handshake.

"Hey," I said back, my hand clasping around his when Caesar released him. Finnick squeezed it comfortingly.

"Sit, sit!" Caesar begged and we obliged. Finnick wrapped his arm around me and practically placed me on his lap. Our sweaty hands were clasped together and our faces were conveniently located inches from each other so when the moment was right, we could kiss.

I had never felt so uncomfortable in my life.

"It's always a pleasure to see you, Mr. Odair." Caesar grinned proudly.

"Please, Caesar, how many times have I asked you to call me sugar cakes?" The crowd fell into a fit of laughter. I couldn't help but smile, Finnick was always cracking jokes, even under pressure.

"Apparently not enough." Caesar answered, crinkling his nose. He sighed contently, drinking us in. "So, we're all dying to know. How did this Capitol-perfect couple start?"

I glanced over at Finnick, dryly thinking: _Well, Caesar, Finnick was selling his body for the Capitol, per usual. I was backstage for my first gig and Finnick ran into me while hiding from his clients. I was eleven. Finnick was nineteen. It was love at first sight._

But, I didn't say that. In fact, Finnick was the one who spoke.

"It happened gradually. At first, I couldn't stand her." He chuckled to himself, "After awhile, she grew on me."

I rolled my eyes, smirking at Caesar and then the audience. "Such a liar. _He_," I poked Finnick pointedly in the chest, "Was the nuisance. I've always been perfect."

Caesar threw back his head, laughing along with the crowd. "Quite the pair you are!"

"He chased me when he wasn't being chased by his adoring fans." I grinned, pretending to reminisce on some false memory.

"She was always so jealous of them." Finnick clucked his tongue, "She never realized she was the only one who had my heart."

"_Aww_," Caesar cooed. "Aren't they just too adorable?" The crowd agreed heartily, whooping and hollering. My eyes made contact with Haymitch. He gave me a significant look; it was time to make this look real. Haymitch passed onto Finnick and nodded.

I smiled madly before grabbing Finnick by the tie and smashing my lips against his. The room seemed to shake with screams and cries. They wanted more and more. Nothing would ever satisfy their desire to be pleased.

Finnick's lips moved against mine hungrily. I kissed back. It was all just sickening.

When Finnick pulled away, he gave me that lop-sided grin that made every Capitol girl's heart melt.

"I hope you don't mind that we're stealing the show right now." Finnick joked to Caesar.

The host shook his head wildly, "I wish it would never end!"

I wished it wouldn't either. When it ended, I would be that much closer to the arena.

"I have something I need to say." Finnick declared, standing up in front of me. "Do you mind?" He asked Caesar.

"Not at all, my boy." Caesar leaned back in his chair to watch.

Finnick nodded before grabbing my hand and getting down on his knees before me.

"We've known each other a long time, Rix." He started. I silently begged him to tell me what he was doing. Panicked, I glanced over at Haymitch. He looked on stoically.

"Yes," I answered hesitantly.

"Ever since the day I met you, I knew you were the one." Finnick sighed contently, lying through his teeth. "And ever since that day, you're all I think and care about. I love you so much, Rixa Hart. And I can't lose you._ Ever_."

I gulped. He was such a good actor, even _I_ felt teary eyed.

"You're going to win the Games. I know you will." He smiled sadly, "But, before you go. I need you to make a promise to me."

I was seriously about to vomit when he pulled something out of his pocket: a small, velvet box.

_No, no, no, no. This wasn't happening._

"Do you love me?" Finnick questioned, looking up at me with broken green eyes.

"With all my heart." I choked, wishing he would stop. My time was up; we should have left the stage already.

"Then make me a promise." Finnick begged, opening the box, "When you get out of the Games, marry me."

There was a collective gasp in the audience. Time seemed to stand still as they waited on the edge of their seat for my response.

My hand flew to my chest, it felt constricted, like I couldn't breathe. I tried to speak but my voice wasn't working. His eyes begged me to forgive him for this, that this wasn't his idea.

I side glanced at Haymitch again and _knew_ that that bastard had come up with this brilliant plan. I could kill him.

I felt tears of anger and confusion spill out of my eyes. They probably looked like overwhelment or happiness to the daft Capitol. They couldn't see my distress. All they saw was what they wanted to see.

I placed two shaky hands on Finnick's face and did the only thing I could do. I kissed him again.

When I pulled away, he asked, "Is that a yes?"

I nodded fervently and the audience went mad. It felt like the whole room was spinning. Clapping and whistling filled my ears. I could hear Caesar yelling, "If that isn't the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, then I don't know what is!"

Finnick placed a large diamond ring on my finger, before standing me up and embracing me tightly.

Amidst all the confusion and noise, Finnick whispered softly into my ear, "Rixa, I'm so sorry."

I wanted to scream at him, to punch him, to do anything then stand there vulnerably hugging him with a promise to wed him after the Games on my right hand. But, I couldn't. Instead, I told him, "I won't live to go through with it."

That was a promise.

I pulled away before he could say anything else. We smiled like mad, thanking Caesar for letting us share our special moment with all of them.

"It's a dream come true," I squeezed Finnick's hand, "Besides me being sent to the Games tomorrow." I joked lightly.

Caesar glanced enviously at us, wrapping the interview up, "We wish you luck. If you don't have the most sponsors ever, then I'll sponsor you myself!"

I giggled and thanked him. The buzzer finally went off. Probably ten minutes too late.

Walking off the stage, I thought hopelessly to myself, _how could Brant possibly top that?_

I guessed that was Haymitch's point. He didn't want Brant to top it.

He wanted me to win.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>_Oh, lordy! Have I been a naughty writer or what?_

_Hope you guys don't hate me too much for not updating for, like, two months. _

_The moment you've all been waiting for has arrived: the interviews!_

_I hope they weren't too disappointing for the heinously long wait. :/_

_Good news. Rixa's heading to the Games pretty soon. That's exciting (:_

_Keep reviewing. I enjoy it immensely!_


	19. The Last Night

Brant's interview was short and painful. He gave short, curt answers and didn't even mention Madge.

Before he had even answered the first question I knew I was fighting a lost battle. Nobody wanted Brant to win, not even Brant.

I was at a loss for why the hell they were trying so hard to make the hopeless, spoiled Capitol's tribute to be the victor—because I wouldn't make it and then 12 would have two less citizens.

As I stood backstage, Finnick stayed faithfully by my side, begging me to talk to him. I ignored him, whether out of fury or resentment, I didn't know. All I knew was Brant was ruining his chance to get hundreds of sponsors and no one seemed to care. I was all alone in this fight.

Brant walked off stage triumphantly, waving to the off-put audience. As soon as he was backstage I made my way towards him and slapped him as hard as I could.

"You're angry." Brant commented, nursing his cheek.

"No, that was a slap of encouragement." I laughed humorlessly. "Of course I'm angry!"

"Rixa," Finnick tried stepping in. I whirled around, only seeing red.

"No, Finnick, you don't get to talk anymore!" I growled, backing him into a corner, "I was okay with the star-crossed lovers bit, but this—" I held up the finger chained to the ring. "This was too far!" I screamed in anguish and began beating his chest, tears of pure fury bled down my face, ruining my perfect makeup.

"Rixa!" Someone cried, "Rixa, _stop_! STOP!" Someone pulled me away from Finnick, dragging me out of the backstage area and down a secluded hall. I thrashed my body, trying to release myself from my captor. I was done playing nice.

Once I was released, I curled my fist and swung, only to have it easily caught by Peeta.

"Rixa," He breathed, pushing my hands to my side, "Calm down."

My heart was beating rapidly and I glanced around the hall he had dragged me to. It looked familiar.

I had been here before.

"This was where I went after you confessed your love to Katniss." I informed Peeta quietly, glancing up at him.

Peeta looked taken aback. "You were here?" He choked.

I nodded calmly, "Of course I was here, Peet. I thought I was never going to see you again so I came to visit you in the Capitol." I chuckled lightly at my absurdity, "I wanted to surprise you, to spend one more night with you before you were gone forever."

Peeta took in a deep painful breath, furrowing his brows. "I didn't know."

"I never told you." I said plainly, "Why would you?"

"You should have come to visit me afterwards." Peeta turned and leaned his back against the wall. "I could have fixed this." His voice was thick as his bright blue eyes pleaded to me.

"Fixed what?" I sniffed, crossing my arms uncomfortably. "We were over the second your name was pulled out of the glass."

Peeta looked like he wanted to tell me something, but something was stopping him.

"I could have fixed us." He whispered. I glanced over to him, not fully understanding.

"How?" I pleaded.

Peeta shook his head. Something was stopping him again.

"Keep your secrets." I told him, walking back down the hall, leaving him alone, "Some day, they will be all you have left."

When I arrived back to the staging area, Haymitch and Katniss were in a heated conversation. Actually, it was more of a screaming match. Finnick stood in the corner, arms crossed, looking stoic and unmoved by his surroundings.

"You don't know what it's like, Haymitch!" Katniss shouted furiously, "How could you do this to them? To _us_?" She shoved him angrily. Haymitch looked like he wanted to push back but caught me watching. He cleared his throat and pulled down his jacket.

"Hey, sweetheart," He muttered, "When's the big date?"

My first reaction should have been to grab something pointy and shove it through his chest cavity.

But, for some reason, I laughed. It was a cruel, mechanical laugh that didn't suit me.

"You'll have to ask Finnick." I answered once I had calmed down enough.

Finnick shifted uncomfortably, trying to get me to look at his face, to see who sorry he really was.

Katniss looked at me with sympathy. I was sure it was sympathy, not pity this time. She turned and glared at Haymitch once last time before walked towards me. Katniss stopped, her eyes ablaze with too many emotions to separate. She had that same look Peeta had, the one that desperately wanted to explain themselves but something was stopping them.

Instead, Katniss settled for embracing me in an awkward hug. "I'm sorry." She muttered gravely. Before I could respond, she disappeared into the shadows.

Now it was just Haymitch, Finnick, and me. Great.

I stood still, eyeing my mentor, waiting for him to do something—apologize, beg for mercy, kill himself (I really wasn't picky).

"I did this for you—" Haymitch started.

"Well isn't that sweet." I said coldly. "My mentor sells me to the Capitol whore for some sponsors. Heartwarming."

Finnick flinched but I was past caring for his feelings.

"Rixa, _please_," Finnick implored, inching toward me, "I'm trying to protect you here."

"And what about Annie? Have you thought twice about_ her_ since you agreed to do this insane engagement?" I fumed, "Has anyone thought about my feelings? About what_ I_ want?"

"No," Haymitch said honestly, "We're thinking of the best approach to bring you back."

"And to protect you." Finnick stressed.

"Shove your protection up your Capitol tainted ass, Finnick." I spat, "You should be protecting Brant like I told you to! Like you both _promised_ to." I hissed, "But, no one seems to be taking their promises into consideration so I might have to break a few of mine to get even." I said pointedly.

Haymitch's jaw clenched, "Well, sweetheart, you caught us. We're all a bunch of liars trying to get our way. What are you going to do about it?" He sneered.

I pressed my lips together, glancing mockingly at Finnick and back to my mentor.

"Run."

* * *

><p>No one was going to be getting any sleep tonight. Not with how things ended between us all. I mocked Finnick, slapped Brant, screamed at Haymitch, and walked out on Peeta. I even snapped at Cinna when he tried to undress me. It seemed the only person I was on good terms with was Katniss and I could practically taste the irony in that.<p>

I was too upset to do anything but crumple onto my bed. I had no energy left to turn on the forest or get under the covers. I just wanted to crawl into a ball and die. Nothing could make me feel worse than I already did.

Everyone was only trying to help me survive the Games. I was the only one who didn't want me to survive the Games. I knew what would happen if I survived and maybe that was why I was hardest on Finnick. When I came back, I would be forced to prostitution like him. How could he think that was best? He was being selfish, only thinking of himself and how alone he'd be in the Capitol without me.

Finnick Odair. I hated him more than anything at the moment. And that was impressive considering the amount of hatred I held towards Haymitch. Haymitch with his schemes and conniving plots. As far as I was concerned, he was no better than the Capitol, than President Snow himself.

I just laid in bed, wallowing in my fury and self-hatred. I wanted it all to end. Tomorrow I would get my wish. Tomorrow I would run into that cornucopia and be reckless. I would do the opposite of what ever Haymitch told me, just in spite. It was childish, but it was my last defense.

Tears of anger silently fell down my face. I didn't bother to wipe them. I was all alone and probably going to die tomorrow. I could cry all I wanted.

A soft knock echoed around my room. I sat up rigidly, staring at my door. In confusion, I slipped off my bed and padded my way to the door. Slowly, I opened it to reveal a very upset Peeta Mellark.

Before I could say anything, he pushed himself into my room and shut the door behind him. Peeta turned back to my bewildered frame and smashed his lips hungrily against mine. I was too stunned to react and he was hugging me before I could do anything. I heard him sniffling in my ear, rocking me back and forth.

"P-Peeta?" I questioned softly, "What's wrong?"

Peeta released me, glancing up at the ceiling, laughing cruelly. "How can you even ask me that, Rixa?"

"I don't know," I mumbled, "It was just the first thing that popped into my head."

He tilted his blonde head, staring at me in awe. "You never cease to amaze me, Rixa Hart." He shook his head.

"That'll get me through the Games for sure." I joked lightly. All humor was erased from Peeta's face.

"That's what's wrong." He shivered. "The Games. You and Brant being Reaped. Me and Katniss. You and Finnick. It's all _wrong_."

I knew that. Everything was wrong and there was no way to fix it. Not anymore.

"Everything's wrong." He whispered, pushing back my blonde hair. "We're wrong."

"Wrong about what?" I gulped, feeling uncomfortable under his intense gaze. "Peeta, you're starting to scare me."

That internal battle was going on in his mind again. I could see it raging in his eyes; he so desperately wanted to win.

Peeta leaned his forehead against mine, closing his eyes as he grabbed my hand.

_"I love you."_

I had to be dreaming. This only happened in my dreams. Peeta Mellark would never utter those words to me again. Not when he was so fully in love with Katniss.

I backed away shaking me head, making my way to my bed. "No," I wrapped my arms around myself. "No, I need to wake up."

Peeta caught up easily and wrapped his arms around mine. "You're not dreaming, Rixa. If you were, you have pretty messed up dreams." And he flashed me that cocky smile that made my heart melt. I never thought that smile would be for me again.

"You're just saying this to make me feel better before I die tomorrow." I pushed him away, "I don't need your charity."

Peeta frowned playfully, "I never realized my love for you was charity. I guess I've been loving you wrong for years now."

"Stop it," I begged, fresh tears falling, "Just stop, Peet. You love Katniss. You're just feeling guilty for what happened and trying to make up for it."

"I don't love Katniss." He confessed, glancing around the room quickly as if someone was watching us.

"Don't say that." I muttered, "Yes you do."

He shook his head defiantly, "I think I know myself better than you and I'm saying I don't love her."

"Peet," I tried.

He smashed his lips against mine again and I didn't have the strength to fight him off. If this was going to be my last night alive, I wanted to spend it pretending that Peeta was still mine, that we were just back home in 12, kissing like we used to.

If this was a dream, I never wanted to wake up.

I ran my fingers through his nicely cut hair. It felt familiar. I pulled away, resting my head on his chest, listening to the way his heart beat and his chest raised with every breath. It was like I was reliving our old life.

Peeta grabbed my hand and led me to my bed. I lay down on the far left side, staring at the window overlooking the Capitol. It was soon replaced with the forest. Peeta got in and scooted himself towards me. Our bodies fit together perfectly, like nothing could ever tear us apart.

"I used to think that, when we'd lie in bed together, that I was going to marry you one day." I smiled sadly, though he couldn't see it. His arms wrapped around me protectively.

"One day we'll run away and do it." He promised. Peeta sounded so sincere that I made myself believe him. Maybe when he met me in the afterlife we _could_ do it. "Just get through the Games, Rix."

With Peeta's warmth and lies, I felt sleep begin to overcome me. My eyes sagged as Peeta's free hand began to play with my hair.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" I asked weakly.

"I'll take you to the arena if you'll let me." Peeta promised. I nodded, shutting my eyes.

_"I love you."_ He whispered again as I fell into unconsciousness.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>_I didn't plan on writing anything today. My fingers obviously had other ideas._

_The end of next chapter will be Rixa heading up into the arena. Are you guys shitting yourself with excitement or what?_

_And for those of you who want some Rixa/Katniss action, it will be in the next chapter._

_I hope this chapter cleared things up for some of you. Peeta loves Rixa, not Katniss. Katniss loves not Peeta. Bam. There you go.  
>Review please! (:<em>

_Probably won't get to update until, like, Wednesday. I've got to study for finals this weekend and then take finals on Monday and Tuesday. Sorry about my lame ass school._

_Enjoy (:_


	20. The Final Goodbyes

I didn't want to wake up. It was cruel for me to have to get up, to leave the warmth and safety of Peeta's arms. It wasn't fair.

But, I had to leave. I didn't want to say goodbye to Peeta. I was sick of saying goodbye.

I wasn't sure how I could possibly word all my thoughts and feelings appropriately. So, I didn't.

As quietly and motionlessly as I could, I slipped out of Peeta's arms and onto the floor. I didn't bother changing. My sweats would have to do. I was afraid if I spent anymore time in my room, Peeta would wake up and I would have to confront him.

I didn't want to talk about last night and our moment of weakness. I didn't want to think about it. I had to think about Brant. No one else could get in the way of that, no matter how much I wished I could stay locked away with Peeta forever.

He would get over me. He had Katniss.

Some cruel part of me thought that maybe Katniss had sent him in my room to consul me on my last night.

I couldn't wallow in self-pity, either. Soon, Katniss and Peeta wouldn't exist to me.

With one last glance at Peeta's sweet and peaceful face, I silently shut the door behind me.

"You think this will go over well with him?" Katniss' voice said quietly from behind me. I almost screamed, my heart thudded madly in my chest as if it knew it only had so many beats left.

Today, I was going to the Games. Today, I could die.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as Katniss stared at me.

"Sorry," She muttered, "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I guess I'm just a little jumpy." I sighed, running a hand threw my messy hair.

Katniss pursed her lips and stared at my door. "Well?" She raised her eyebrows in expectation.

"Well, what?" I frowned.

She sighed exasperatedly, "Do you really think this will go over well with him?"

"Who?" I said evasively. Did Katniss know Peeta had spent the night with me? Would she try to kill me?

She didn't have to kill me. Malum probably would.

"Haymitch." Katniss narrowed her eyes, "Peeta, you idiot."

I looked at her in shock. She didn't look like she was about to stab me. In fact, she didn't seem angry at me at all. Maybe a little annoyed but not as hurt as I thought she'd be with her fiancé spending the night with his ex.

"You're not…mad?" I questioned.

Katniss smiled like that was such an insane statement. "You should at least say goodbye to him. Doesn't he deserve that much?"

"He deserve a lot more than whatever half-ass goodbye I could give him." I mumbled, edging away from the door, wanting to get out of here before he woke up.

"Something is better than nothing. Peeta would take anything at this point." Katniss told me seriously.

"He has you." I couldn't help the spite in my voice, "He'll get through the Games with you by his side."

Katniss rolled her eyes, "Stop with the guilt trip, Rixa. You're the same as me now."

I furrowed my brows, feeling slightly offended, "I'm not a boyfriend stealer. I'm not a life-ruiner."

"Stop it, Rixa," Katniss snapped, "Who has a girl back at home? Finnick. Who's marrying Finnick? _You_. And yet, here you are, acting all self-righteous to me about being the bad guy. Maybe if you opened your eyes you'd see that we're not so different. We did what we had to do. Maybe if you somehow manage to survive the Games, you'll finally see that." Katniss finished in a low, dangerous voice. It felt strange to be reprimanded by Katniss and I made sure to bite back my smart retort. She had survived the Games; I knew how deadly she really was.

I cleared my throat uncomfortably, wishing she hadn't brought up Finnick and Annie. The ring on my finger suddenly weighed two tons and it was all my mind could think about.

Poor Annie.

I was exactly like Katniss. But, she was starting to make me feel like maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

_We did what we had to do_. Maybe if I survived, I would fully understand what that meant.

But, I wouldn't.

And now I had to leave for the Games.

"Watch after Peeta for me." I finally uttered, staring straight into Katniss' grey eyes. "Tell him we said goodbye last year, there's nothing else for us to say. And that I forgive him for…everything."

Katniss' expression softened, "Of course."

We stood there, awkwardly looking at each other.

"Keep Brant alive," I went on, "Send him parachutes, not me."

Katniss nodded solemnly, "Anything else?"

I pondered it for a moment as I began walking past her, hearing Peeta stirring. "Punch Haymitch in the face for me. Whenever you feel the moment is right."

She snorted despite herself, "You know I will."

"Thanks," I smiled lightly, "Bye, Katniss."

Katniss tilted her head, lips twitching upward, "Good luck, Rixa."

I quickly made my way down the hall to Brant's open door, wanting to apologize for last night. I didn't want that to be our last conversation because it very well could be at this point.

But, the odds were still very much not in my favor because Brant had already left.

It was disheartening but I would find Brant in the Games. He wouldn't dare disobey Haymitch's orders so I was certain he would make it through the first day if he didn't run into the Cornucopia.

I trudged down the rest of the hall out into the living room, wishing I'd thought to grab a jacket. I would have to walk outside and sit in a hovercraft in only a tank top. Inwardly, I groaned, hoping I wouldn't have to share the same craft as Malum (though, I wasn't sure that Ridley was a much better companion).

"No need to get dressed up for me, sweetheart." Haymitch's degrading voice muttered from the couch.

I rolled my eyes, pushing myself forward. I couldn't murder Haymitch, Brant needed him. Haymitch followed me, pushing the elevator button before I had the chance to move my arm.

"You going to give me the silent treatment?" Haymitch prodded, "That seems a bit childish."

I bit my tongue so hard I could taste the metallic-ness filling my mouth.

Haymitch sighed as the doors to the elevator slid open. We entered it and Haymitch pushed the button to the main floor.

"You're angry." Haymitch commented.

"I'm a lot of things." I answered quietly, "You went behind my back, you used Finnick and me, and you tossed Brant aside like trash. So, yes. _I'm a little angry_."

Haymitch's expression changed drastically, he looked at me like he had human feelings and guilt. "We did this to protect you."

"We?" I laughed coldly, "There is no 'we'! You use people, Haymitch! You play with emotions and force us to do what you want to get what you want. As far as I'm concerned, you're no better than the Capitol. You're no better than Snow." I spat.

Haymitch recoiled. Something flashed in his eyes at my last statement. He glanced to see that we were halfway down the building now. When Haymitch spoke again, his voice was hushed and distressed. "Do you know why you got such a high score? Do you?"

I peered at my mentor, taken aback. "I—What?"

"Snow is angry that you're calling yourself the Capitol's Tribute. He doesn't want the Capitol to be tainted with a tribute from a rebelling District." He told me seriously, not breaking eye contact, "You need to watch your back, Rixa. Snow isn't happy with District Twelve as it is. Don't give him anything more to kill you for."

"What?" I gasped, "Why is he angry with Twelve? Why does he want to kill me?"

"Are you listening, sweetheart?" Haymitch growled. We were two floors away from our destination. "Katniss and Peeta weren't supposed to survive. You're using the Capitol for your personal gain. Only Snow can do that."

The bell _dinged_ and the doors flew open.

"Watch your back, sweetheart." Haymitch muttered under his breath, stepping out of the elevator, "Don't do anything stupid. We'll talk when you get back—"

"I'm not—" I tried to argue but Effie Trinket came out of nowhere and swept me away.

"Good luck, sweetheart," Haymitch forced a smile, waving as other Capitol citizens and mentors observed us. "Make me proud!"

Effie dragged me through the Training Center. Finnick was down there but we didn't have time to chat. I was late already according to Effie.

"Rixa!" Finnick cried, running toward me as I boarded the hovercraft, "Rixa!"

I looked at him desperately. Everything was happening so fast. I wanted it to all stop. I needed more time before they threw me into the arena.

"Finn," I breathed, my mouth too dry to yell.

"Rixa," He repeated, not sure of what else to say, "I'm sorry!"

I shook my head, feeling my eyes burn with threatening tears. I opened my mouth to respond but was forced backward unceremoniously as the door slammed shut, locking me in with eleven other tributes.

I was tossed roughly into the last empty chair and injected with some sort of blue light.

"It's a tracker." Freddy's voice told me. I glanced up to see the sweet boy smiling nervously. "Hey, Rixa."

"Freddy," I forced a smile, feeling like I was about to vomit even though I hadn't eaten in hours, "How are you?"

He giggled lightly, "Better now that you're here."

I pursed my lips, nodding as I glanced around the hovercraft.

Freddy glanced up at me with those big, sad brown eyes, "We're still allies, right?"

"Of course." I honestly hadn't thought about my deal with Freddy. I prayed that he had forgotten all about Anna. "I promised, right?"

He nodded wildly, looking incredibly relieved. "Anna will be so happy!"

Apparently, he hadn't forgotten. Great.

"The Capitol's Tribute is taking in all the runts." Malum's menacing voice cackled from three seats over, "How…_noble_."

"Don't make me hurt you again." Freddy threatened. It was unsettling how dangerous Freddy sounded and looked at that moment.

Even Malum thought better of engaging in a battle of wits.

The rest of the ride was silent and uncomfortable. In less than an hour, all of us would be trying to murder the other. Half of us wouldn't make it through the first day. Maybe none of us would even win.

When we touched down in the holding area, our restraints were released. We all stood up and stretched out before the door fell open. All the tributes filed out onto the platform, waiting to be escorted into our rooms for launch.

A pale, black haired woman who looked like she was sucking on a lemon came for me. Before I could move toward her, something grabbed me around the waist. I looked down to see Freddy hugging me tightly.

I placed my arms around the little boy lightly, "I'll meet you in there, Freddy. Don't worry." I said softly. He peered up at me, wiping something wet from his face quickly.

"Okay," He responded thickly.

The black-haired woman grabbed my arm roughly and dragged me along with her. "Good luck, Freddy!" I called as his escort pushed him the other way. He looked terrified but there was nothing I could do to help him now.

We walked a short ways down a large hall before I was thrust into one of the rooms and had the door slammed on my face.

I let out a shaky breath before a familiar voice called me.

I turned around to see Cinna waiting patiently for me. A sad expression clad on his dark face.

Cinna and I sat alone in the room. The glass tube that would take me up to the arena sat idly by, awaiting my entrance. There was still time before I went on, but it was slipping away quickly as I sat with Cinna, simply holding his hand.

"I need to get you dressed, Rixa," He finally said softly, lifting my chin up with his hand not currently being crushed by my death grip.

I nodded, gulping down the excess saliva in my mouth. I allowed Cinna to stand me up and bring me to the metal rack holding the bag with my Games outfit. He pulled it out to reveal a brown pair of pants and shirt with an olive-green overcoat made of some plastic-like material.

I stripped off my clothes, unconcerned with Cinna seeing me naked. He had dressed me hundreds of times; I was used to his presence when I was at my most vulnerable. Cinna helped me into the outfit as my motor functions seemed to be malfunctioning. When he had zipped up the thin jacket, Cinna stepped back, taking a look.

"What do you think?" I asked quietly.

"It'll provide some resistance in rain and wind but not too much. It's waterproof but I wouldn't go swimming in it if there's a pool." Cinna said tugging on the jacket, testing it.

"Who are you, my mentor?" I joked mildly. Cinna smiled lightly, giving me a quick kiss on the forehead, "I was talking about how I look. Will I die pretty?"

He gave me a disapproving look, "I believe in you."

"I wish I did, too," I said glancing over at the tube.

"Oh, Rixa," Cinna put his soft hands on each side of my face. "You have no idea how strong you are, the effect you have on people."

"I'm not strong," I murmured, looking down at the ground.

Cinna forced me to look in his dark, soulful eyes, "You have so many people out there rooting for you! Oceilia, Finnick, Gale, me! You can't give up before it's even started!"

"I haven't given up," I told him, feeling the heat rise in my face, "I'm not going in there to win."

Cinna looked at me, confused. It took him a few moments before he realized what I was saying. He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply, looking quite pained. Cinna knew it was time to say goodbye. "You're the strongest woman I've ever met, Rixa Hart." He started; his eyes were so full of emotion but he never spilled a single tear, "It's been such an honor to work with you these past few years, to be called your friend. I'll never forget watching you grow into this beautiful and selfless woman. I'm sorry this happened to you, Rixa, and I will do what I can to help you on the outside."

I pulled Cinna in for a hug, touched by his kind words. "Thank you, Cinna."

When a cool voice told me I had sixty second to enter the tube, I wasn't afraid anymore. Cinna's words had given me new strength, reminding me of why I kept fighting. I looked at the tube as Cinna squeezed my hand for the last time.

I smiled genuinely at Cinna. His words might have just saved Brant's life.

"Wait, Rixa," Cinna suddenly remembered something. He pulled something out of his pocket. It was small and golden: the Mocking-jay pin.

I furrowed my brows as he positioned it strategically on the left breast of the jacket. He stepped back again, looking satisfied.

"I'd forgotten about this." I confessed, looking at it in disdain, "Why did you put it on?"

Cinna smiled knowingly, "You never know what kind of allies it could give you."

I looked at him quizzically but didn't question it.

Instead, I turned around and made my way to the tube, stationing myself cozily inside it. I met Cinna's bittersweet gaze and smiled again. "We've come full circle."

He tilted his head again. "What do you mean?"

"You dressed me in my first Capitol outfit. It seems only fitting you would put me in my last." Cinna breathed in deeply, sorrow filling the sigh he released.

"I'm still rooting for you." He called as the tube started to enclose me.

"It will be in vane." I answered, waving him off. "Help Brant when I'm gone!"

But, he couldn't answer as the cool voice lifted me up into the arena; the final count down had begun.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> _Rixa is headed to the arena!_

_Who's excited? (:_

_Yay! A little Freddy time. I heart Freddy haha._

_Review, review, review! (:_


	21. The Bloodbath

It was almost painful how slow the tube lifted me up. My heart was beating erratically in my chest, waiting to see what was in store for me.

I knew there would be a meadow. Finnick had revealed it to me almost a week ago.

Had it really only been a week since Finnick and I were dancing at my party?

I guessed so. Time flew when you were about to die.

Sun light blinded me from my time underground, almost making me stumble. Falling would be bad. Falling now—before the timer was out—would result in a quick, messy demise.

So, I kept my balance, keeping my stance wide. I didn't care if I looked silly to the cameras surely trained on me; I was still alive and kicking.

The tube popped up in the blinding light. I squinted my eyes, blocking out some of the radiance with my arm as I peered around. I could see the Cornucopia. It was a large shell-like monster with goodies for all of us. My eyes caught something metal glittering in the light: a bow and arrow.

If Snow wanted to kill me so bad, why would he put my weapon of choice within reach? Maybe Haymitch was wrong.

It wasn't really in my reach, though. It was pretty deep in there. But, I needed it if I was going to survive.

I had already decided to run in there last night. I knew it was outlandish and reckless but I was going to die anyway so I might as well try. I could almost hear Brant yelling at me to not even think about it. Peeta's desperate _'I love you'_ rang in my ears. I shook my head, clearly it of all thoughts and human emotions.

I was in the Hunger Games. It was them or Brant. There were no more distractions.

_"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Seventy-Fourth Annual Hunger Games."_ Plutarch Heavensbee's familiar voice echoed around the arena, _"May the odds be ever in your favor."_

The countdown had begun. Plutarch powerfully counted the numbers backwards from sixty. A few people glanced around at their surroundings. Malum was seven tributes down from me, staring down a shiny, pointy sword in the heart of the Cornucopia. I made a note to stay on the outsides and away from the career pack.

On the other side of the circle of tributes stood Brant, tall and fearless. I caught his eye and he sent me a small smile, nodding his good luck. I returned the exchange, hoping he didn't know what I was up to and try to run in the Cornucopia himself. I would meet up with Brant later.

For some reason, I wasn't worried about being slaughtered by Malum at the moment. I knew I was fast. I could make it in there and out without too much damage. I just hoped I wouldn't have to inflict too much mortal damage on others. I promised myself I wouldn't go too deep. The arrows were out. There were backpacks and other small weapons that would help Brant and me. I would grab those and scat.

When Plutarch's voice uttered, "_twenty-three_—" There was an enormous explosion that almost caused me to lose my step again. I scanned the area in a panic.

Someone had fallen off their platform.

I wasn't sure who it was but they were only five down from my left side. A quick scan told me that it had been the sweet tiny girl from 9. _Anna._

A morbid sigh of relief fell from my lips.

An eleven-year-old girl had just blown up before my eyes and all I could think was: _Only twenty-two more to go_. It was sick. The Games had already changed me.

I searched for Freddy as Plutarch called down through the teens. He had been right next to Anna.

The most unsettling thing about it (besides my nonchalant-ness) was Freddy's reaction. He barely even moved. His face was determined. Maybe he was relieved he wouldn't have to deal with Anna anymore either. Maybe he had been suckered into that alliance, too.

Maybe he felt the same with our alliance…

No, Freddy had practically begged me to ally with him.

"_Eight, seven, six_—"

I readied myself along with every other suicidal person heading into the bloodbath.

"_four, three_—"

My hand absentmindedly flew to my Mockingjay pin. Time seemed to stand still for a split second. The silence was so loud it vibrated in my alert ears.

"_one_—" A ground shaking buzzer went off and we all went running like a stampede.

I ran faster than I had ever needed to run in my life, reaching the Cornucopia first. Malum wasn't far behind. So were half the tributes.

I slid into a covered pocket, snatched a backpack and shoved everything in sight into it. Screams punctured the air and I tried not to flinch as kids were bloodily murdered around me. I kept going until I heard a familiar grunt to my left.

I chanced a glance to see Freddy fighting off the male tribute from 5. They struggled with each other as I watched helplessly. If I moved, it would give away my position to the rabid killers surrounding me. If I didn't, Freddy would _be_ murdered.

I panicked, looking around for something to help my predicament and just the thing caught my eye.

"Freddy!" I cried, chucking a nice, new axe in the back of 5. Freddy didn't waste a precious second. He pulled out the axe and lobbed off the boy's head like it was a dummy from training.

I guessed that was why people used those dummies, to get ready for the real thing.

Freddy glanced over at me, blood splattered across his face and shirt. I chucked the backpack I had been dutifully packing as other tributes were closing in on Freddy. I was still well-hidden so I wasn't in as much trouble.

Freddy nodded thankfully at me before running off into the forest.

In a flash, I grabbed the nearest backpack and resumed my packing, trying to gather what was left. I had foolishly given Freddy all my supplies. It would have been easier to just let 5 kill him, but I couldn't sit by and watch Freddy die. There was too much of that in here already.

Grunts and begs for mercy echoed through the air and I scrambled myself together. I stood up, quickly noticed by a few tributes. The only one that truly terrified me was Ridley.

With barely a flit of her wrist, three knives came whirling at me. I barely ducked the first two, but the third one caught me in the shoulder.

I cried out in pain, still running out towards the forest. The fighting kept going on as I sprinted away. Ridley had found someone else to murder.

I pulled the knife out as I ran, hurting it more than necessary but I didn't have time or distance to stop and fix it.

As soon as I pulled out the knife, my body was side-swept by some large force. I screamed in pain and terror as I looked up at my attacker, my murderer.

The male from 11, Bruno sat upon me, baring his large and very lethal blade. I couldn't help the whimper that vomited from my mouth. I struggled to get away but it was no use. Bruno was too large and strong.

Just as Bruno was about to plunge the death blow, his eye caught something on my person and he froze. One of his calloused hands released the blade and touched something on my jacket in curiosity and amazement.

Bruno peered up at me, the urge to murder me no longer on his countenance. "_For Rue_." He nodded to the Mockingjay pin.

I simply stared at him in shock as he stepped off me and ran the opposite direction into the rocky mountain portion of the arena without a glance backwards.

I propped myself up on my elbows staring after him in awe.

Why had Bruno spared my life for a pin? For a girl I'd never met who had died in the Games last year?

I was stumped but I didn't waste my second chance. I scrambled up my belongings and bounded through the thick forest on one side of the arena closet to me.

I didn't look back or stop running for what felt like hours.

All I could think about was finding Brant who I had seen slip into the forest and that Cinna had been right. I never knew what kind of allies this pin could make.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>_Rixa survived the bloodbath. So, did Freddy (:_

_We're finally in the arena! Whoop whoop! Only took twenty-one chapters. No big deal. Abour half of _The Hunger Games_ was the journey to the Games so that's my justification for the wait haha._

_REVIEW, please! (:_


	22. The Outside

The Capitol was all in a twitter that morning. Everyone had woken early—before ten—and went out for casual tea to gossip about the Games that would start at noon. Every Capitol citizen was dressed in their most flamboyant and fabulous outfit, specifically purchased for this day, the biggest day of the year; the first day of the Games.

Haymitch had gone out, sitting by himself on a stone table, surrounded by ecstatic bodies, screaming adamantly about today. He watched on in disgust as a little boy, no more than ten, opened a long, colorfully wrapped box. The child screeched in delight as he pulled out a long, play sword. The blonde boy proceeded to wave it around dramatically and pretend to stab his sister with it.

Silently, Haymitch wished that the boy would have his name Reaped next year; that he would have to go into the arena and try to use that sword for real, to know that the Games weren't a joke. They were very real to the Districts and their loved ones being forced to go into them. They were all too real for Haymitch who still had vivid nightmares of his time almost twenty-five years earlier. He would never forget the terror he felt, and the heinous things he had witnessed. And for that reason, he wished the boy would go to the Games to learn how far from fun they were. He wanted the boy's parents to weep when his body was sent back to them in pieces in a plain grey box with his name and Capitol address written on it.

His hatred for the Capitol was only intensified on this day. There was nothing fun and enjoyable about the Games. Haymitch despised the Capitol and Snow with every fiber in his being, especially when he had to send people like the Harts into the arena, unsure whether either would come out the victor.

It was tough to tell whether Haymitch truly wanted Rixa to come out alive. Katniss and Peeta were having a hard enough time surviving Snow's wrath. He didn't need another rogue victor on his hands (which would surely be what he would get if Rixa survived without her brother). Last year was a fluke. Never again would two victors be crowned, especially with the great show Rixa and Brant could potentially put on if they were the last two standing.

Plus, there was the engagement he had forced Finnick and Rixa into. There was a certain amount of guilt that nipped at his conscious when he thought about it. The upside of Rixa dying would be not having to see Peeta's depressed face when Rixa and Finnick wed. But, honestly, that was the only upside to Rixa's potential demise. Haymitch wasn't sure that Peeta would be able to survive knowing that Rixa was murdered in the arena because he and Katniss had rebelled last year. He was positive that was the reason the Harts had been Reaped. The odds were just too in the Capitol's favor to have been done by unlucky coincidence. Haymitch smelt corruption—but everything about their world was corrupt so it didn't take a genius to figure that out.

There was a slight breeze in the air, wafting around the nostril-burning amount of rancid perfume and aftershave. Haymitch had spent the last hour chatting up Capitol citizens for sponsors. They were pouring in for Rixa. Everyone wanted a piece of the Capitol's Tribute. Besides Malum and the careers, Rixa had skyrocketed to become a favorite overnight.

Brant, however, was another story. He was getting the average amount of sponsors that a good score could get you. He seemed likable enough on screen but most of his sponsors were coming from the fact that people wanted a showdown between the Hart siblings. That was Brant's only reason for surviving. Haymitch didn't pray much, but he did in hopes that Rixa and Brant wouldn't end up having to face-off in the penultimate battle. He prayed that someone took one out before it came to that.

It was time to head back to the apartment. Peeta was probably an inconsolable mess. Haymitch didn't want to deal with it, but he felt for the boy. Once upon a time _he_ had been in love and she had been murdered by the Capitol. For that reason, he had a soft spot for the idiot baker's boy. He understood his pain.

Haymitch stood up, making his way through the crowd, ignoring the Capitol citizens around him. He'd done enough mingling today to last him a lifetime. But, next year, he would come back and have to do the whole thing over again. Hell—tomorrow he'd probably be back racking up the sponsors for Rixa if she made it through the day.

Thoughts of Rixa and Brant swirled around his mind and Haymitch made his way back to the Training Center. They reminded him of Peeta and Katniss last year who were too much like brother and sister for anyone with actual brains to think they were dating. They were strong willed, caring, selfless individuals. Most of all, they were the last people who deserved to be entered into the Games, to die.

Before Haymitch knew it, he was standing in the elevator, heading up to the top floor. He mentally prepared himself for what he was about to walk into. Would Peeta be a mess? Would Katniss be there for him? Would Rixa and Brant survive the bloodbath?

Haymitch didn't know. He just didn't know.

After the short elevator ride, Haymitch stepped through the door to the penultimate floor. Katniss was up, sitting at the table and munching on some breakfast meat. Effie was absent, probably still wracking up the sponsors Haymitch ignored. There was no sign of Peeta either.

"Where's lover boy?" Haymitch quipped, slouching his body into one of the seats surrounding the long table.

"Fast asleep." Katniss swallowed, "Figured you'd want to be here when he woke up and things got bad."

"Aren't you sweet." Haymitch muttered, slurping on his personal can of spirits.

"It's one of my prized characteristics." Katniss replied, finishing up her breakfast just as footsteps echoed down the hall.

Peeta was up.

"Hey there, lover boy." Haymitch traveled to the plush couch, turning on the large television. It was almost time for the Games. Pre-Games announcements were going on like they had been for the past few weeks, getting everyone geared up for the exciting days (or weeks—depending on the tributes) ahead. Caesar Flickerman's friendly and familiar face shone brightly over the re-caps of previous Games, his powerful voice retold the marvelous events in great and jubilant detail.

Peeta scanned the living area before staring up at the television. He knew immediately Rixa was already gone. She was already in her holding room. He had slept in and the Games were about to begin. Peeta felt violently nauseas.

"She's gone?" He croaked. Katniss sent him a sympathetic glance.

"I'm sorry, Peeta." She said, "She had to go."

Peeta blinked, his blue eyes shone but he refused to show any emotion, "Why didn't she say goodbye?"

"Rixa thought it would be best." Haymitch butt in from the couch. Peeta jerked his head over to this ex-mentor.

He shook his head angrily, flaring his nostrils. "She didn't have the right to decide that for me. Odds are we'll never see each other again."

"Peeta—" Katniss started.

"That's the spirit." Haymitch stretched his arms behind his head, "Give up on the girl because she didn't kiss you goodbye."

"_Now the moment you've all been patiently waiting for!_" Flickerman's excited voice flew through the speakers. All three of the Victors watched the screen with nervous eyes. Peeta's heart started to pick up with erratic beating. "_My good friend, and our newest Gamemaker, Plutarch Heavensbee, is ready to let the Games begin. Take it away!_"

The feed cut to the Games, to the Cornucopia, to the tributes. The tubes were still rising. The tributes were blinking, using their shaky hands to stop the light from burning their eyes. Peeta quickly walked into the living room to get a better view. He could just pick out Rixa's white-blonde hair in the bunch.

Katniss took a seat next to Haymitch, looking up at Peeta's alert face. "She'll be okay, Peeta. She can fend for herself."

Peeta simply swallowed, staying standing. He couldn't sit at a moment like this.

Heavensbee's voice rang through the room and Peeta stiffened, " _Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Seventy-Fourth Annual Hunger Games,_" Katniss sniffed, tucking her legs into her chest, "_May the odds be ever in your favor!_."

"_Sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven_—"

Peeta's eyes found Malum and counted the tributes he was away from Rixa.

_Seven_.

That was a safe distance. If Rixa ran away as soon as the buzzer went off, she would get a good head start and Malum would have to regroup if he wanted to find her.

Once Peeta's gaze found Rixa, he couldn't turn away. Even when the view panned to the other tributes, like his former best friend Brant, he kept his eyes glued, waiting until she graced Panem with her angelic face. Peeta couldn't believe how much he took her beauty and strength for granted. He took everything about Rixa for granted, and he would have given his good leg and more to get her out of the Games.

"—_twenty-five, twenty-four, twenty-three_—" an explosion went off, forcing Peeta to tear his eyes away from Rixa's graceful appearance under pressure.

"And it looks like we have our first casualty, Caesar." Randolpho Fiennes, Caesar Flickerman's co-anchor for the Games chuckled heartily. The flamboyant man popped up on the screen as the little girl blew up again and again before Peeta's eyes.

"Yes, we do," Caesar agreed (though having the tact not to laugh at an innocent child's cruel fate), "Before the Games have even started. That's always a sign that it's going to be a bloody one!"

In the background, Heavensbee's voice ticked off the time. Peeta bounced on the balls of his feet, unable to stand still. He crossed his thick arms, grimacing at the television screen. Rixa's face popped up again, as pale and perfect as ever. But, this time, there was something more. Something determined and desperate. He watched her blue eyes flicker about; he couldn't see who she was looking at but he understood what she was about to do.

"Oh, God," Peeta croaked out.

"She's going to run." Haymitch said stonily. Katniss sat up straighter, watching with wide eyes. She wanted to scream at Rixa through the screen, but it would have been too hypocritical. _She_ had run straight into the Cornucopia and hadn't had any responsibilities in the Games, no one to look out for, no one she grew up with.

"She's going to save her brother, or die trying." Katniss murmured.

"She's going to get herself killed!" Peeta spat at the huntress, like she had talked Rixa into the inane idea.

"—_eight, seven, six_—"

"Rixa, please," Peeta whispered frantically under his breath.

"—_four, three_—" Haymitch watched as Rixa's hand flew to her own Mocking-jay pin. He frowned, not knowing she had her own rebellion symbol—the same one Katniss had flaunted last year. A slight sense of panic flooded through him. He silently willed Rixa to take it off.

Time seemed to stand still. Adrenaline soared through Katniss, flashing back to this moment exactly one year ago when it had been her inside the arena.

"—_one_—" The buzzer went off and all three Victors watched helplessly as Rixa ran head first into the bloodbath.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>Well, hello there...


	23. The Hallucinations

For hours I ran through the forest terrain. I kept running and zig-zagging and pushing forward. I had to keep going or I was going to lose it. The bloodbath kept splashing into my mind and how I had thrown an axe into some poor kid's back.

Eventually I eased up, cursing myself for wasting away energy. My throat burned from repeatedly sucking in raw air and my shoulder hurt from Ridley's quick knife skills. My whole body ached for water, to be replenished. I had yet to pass a spring or any sort of body of water. I painstakingly remembered there was a water source by the Cornucopia a ways, but I had taken off in the other direction. I was on my own out in the heavy wilderness.

I was hours past burning aches through my throbbing body. I was numb and shaky and as I slowed to a stop, I tumbled forward, unable to hold up my weight any longer. I took it as a sign to get a little rest and check out my pack.

Slumping against a fallen log, I pulled my back pack clumsily over my overheated body and popped it open. One by one I pulled things out:  
>Three knives. Some sort of binoculars. Bandages. Granola. Rope. A fire starting kit. A tent. A blanket. Some red pills to fight off infection. Extras bows. And a hard loaf of bread.<p>

No water or a way to carry water around if I found some. I could have sworn a water bottle was the first thing I grabbed.

But, then I remembered: Freddy had my original pack.

So, I stared at the loaf of bread, smelling it, painfully reminding myself of the boy I would never see again. _Peeta_.

I ripped a rather large chunk on the bread. It was only going to strengthen my thirst but I didn't care. I was hungry and tired and alone. At that moment, I prayed Malum would find me to put me out of my misery.

The sky was falling now. It wasn't the _real_ sky so I wasn't entirely sure if the sky really _was_ falling in the Capitol or District 12 or if the Gamemakers were just making us think so. My head hurt to think like that. All I wanted to do was sleep. My drowsy lids began to close but I snapped them open, forcing myself up to find a better spot to spend the night. If I stayed out in the open, I would be another face for the nightly death count.

Gathering the remainder of my strength, I heaved my body up one of the bushy trees that provided good coverage. Once I was far enough up, I pulled out a piece of rope and cut it with one of the knives, tying it around the strings of the bag and a branch by my head. I used the rest to secure myself around the trunk so I didn't fall out. It was a trick I learned watching Katniss last year.

My hand rummaged through the secured bag. The tent was useless in my current situation, but the blanket wasn't. I took another bite of bread and sat up rigidly against the bark.

It was going to be a long night.

My eyes shut for a few moments. When they flickered open, it was pitch black with a few specks of stars. The Capitol anthem was blaring in my open ears. I winced at the sound, my body ached terribly. Through an opening above in the branches, I could make out the projection of tonight's victims. The victims of the initial bloodbath.

I braced myself for any news: good or bad. The first three Districts were alive. I knew that because the first thing that lit up the arena was Narina's smile. Then it was Reid's stony face. My heart dropped to the forest floor. Narina and Reid, District 4, top contending careers: dead. Dead on the first day. And I was the reason.  
>I had to be. Malum and his career pack had ganged up on them for talking to me, for siding with me, for sticking up for me. Finnick had lost both his tributes and I had just lost two powerful allies. Things were only going to get worse from here.<p>

Now, I was alone. I had no idea where Freddy or Brant were, just the general direction they had scampered off in to get away from the bloodbath. Retracing their steps would be useless. They probably did the same thing I did, zig-zagged around the arena to keep anyone off their tails. They didn't want to be found. So, I was alone.

Alone to die of dehydration if Malum didn't get to me first.

The projection kept playing to inform us that we should be keeping track of who we didn't need to take care of anymore: The male from District 5. Both tributes from District 6. The girl from 7 appeared and I prayed that Freddy was dead, too, so I wouldn't have to worry about our stupid promise and he wouldn't have to live through this hell. But, the spot for him came and went, and the next face was the girl from 8. After, Anna's sweet and terrified face covered the screen and my heart tugged.

Then the boy from 10 popped up. He was the one Freddy had finished off. After that was the female from 11. Then, it was the moment I had truly been waiting for.  
>But, I didn't have anything to worry about. Brant's face didn't show up, and he knew I was still alive as well. Now all we had to do was find each other in this deathly wilderness. Easier said than done.<p>

The anthem faded out and the screen disappeared, being replaced with the starry sky once more.

Ten down, thirteen more to go.

* * *

><p>I awoke at dawn the next morning. It was for no particular reason but to let me know that my body was in desperate need of water. Slowly, I untied my things and crawled down the tree, careful not to scream too loudly. I muffled my whimpers by biting down on my lower lip. Blood beaded down my chin. I wiped it off with the back of my hand once I was on the firm ground.<p>

I tossed the pack over my shoulder and headed north. I didn't have much of a reason for going that way; I just needed some place to start.

For a few hours I trudged my way through the forest. The sun rose steadily on my side, keeping me warm. My head was swarming with incoherent thoughts. My throat burned white-hot. My shoulder felt like it was going to burst open. I had to stop and find water or I was going to fall over dead.

And that's when I heard it. The soft trickling of delicious liquids. My dry mouth began to water at the thought. I pushed forward, towards the sound. It was behind a bush the size a train car. I threw myself in it; the pointed limbs scratched me carelessly. When I popped out the other side, I fell on my knees. My head rose gently, my eyes opened wide.

But, there was nothing to see. There was no tantalizing waterfall filtering into a crystal blue spring. There was nothing. It was just my wild imagination, desperate to re-hydrate itself.

I felt like screaming but my throat couldn't force the sound out. For a few moments, I stayed on my knees, blinking, hoping that the water would just magically appear. My shaky hands gripped the earth, ripping up dirt and tossing it back down.

If Haymitch was going to send me anything, now would be the time. I felt like giving up and shouting out to Malum, "_Come and get me, you bastard!_"

But I didn't. I was interrupted by a voice.

"_Rixa!_" It shouted. I knew that voice.

"Peeta?" I breathed, squinting up at the sky.

"_Rixa, help me!_" His faint voice shouted.

They had Peeta. I jumped to my feet, wobbling a little in disorientation. "Peeta? Where are you?" My voice trembled. I couldn't think straight. They had Peeta.

"_Rix_," It was a different voice. It was Finnick.

My vision was blurry. I didn't feel right. My hands rubbed my face as I stumbled forward, "Finn?"

"_Rixa, _help!" Peeta shouted. He sounded so distressed.

"Peet, I can't—" I whispered, leaning against a tree for support.

"_I'm over here, Rix,_," Finnick murmured frantically. "_Please, save me._"

"I don't…" I pushed off the tree, following the sound of their shouts for help. Peeta let out a high-pitched scream and I picked up my pace. Why were Peeta and Finnick here? They weren't tributes, they were Victors.

"_They're killing me!_" Peeta screamed. Their voices were projecting in opposite directions. One way led to Peeta, the other to Finnick. I could only save one. Who would I choose?

"_They're killing me! Rixa, do something!_" Finnick's voice boomed in my ears.

The Capitol was watching to see who I would choose. I whimpered, whipping my head both ways as if I could see them.

"_Rixa, please, I'm so sorry._" Peeta's tear-stricken voice whispered through the air.

"_You can't help him, Rix. It's gotta be me_." Finnick told me. "_You know it _has _to be me!_"

Tears streamed down my face. How could they make me choose?

"I'm so sorry." And I took off running in Finnick's direction.

"Finnick!" I screamed, running through the low trees, whipping myself continually with sharp branches. "Finnick, _where are you?_"

"Rixa?" A different voice called. It was lower and lacked the panic of the others. It wasn't scratchy or muffled.

It was Brant.

"Brant?" I shouted sprinting straight even though my body screamed for me to stop. "Brant, it's Finnick! They have him!"

My foot caught on a log and I stumbled through the leaves into a clearing. I fell hard on my wrists, popping something in the left one. I yelped, releasing my left hand and looking up to see that Brant was not the only person in the clearing. To his direct side stood a menacing Malum and behind them was the rest of the career pack, leering hungrily upon me.

I gasped, not believing my eyes. It was another hallucination. Like the water and Finnick's and Peeta's voices. It wasn't real. "Brant?" I squeezed my eyes tight and opened them. He was still there. And so were the careers.

"Look what the Gamemakers dragged in?" Malum sneered, smiling with his almost pointy teeth. "That was almost _too_ easy. I'm a little disappointed to be honest."

I didn't think, I just shuffled my body off the ground and ran to the right. Ridley laughed cruelly and Malum barked orders to follow me.

"Rixa, _run!_" Brant cried. I was running. I was running towards a sharp cut-off that dropped almost at a ninety degree angle. I was trapped.

"Sorry, darlin'," Malum spin his spear coolly in his hands. "Looks like your pretty face is going to grace tonight's sky."

"No," I muttered stubbornly. Malum reared his spear hand. As he released it, I stepped backwards as a reflex. But, there was nothing behind me to step onto. My boot slipped on the slant and—almost in slow motion—I fell backwards. The spear grazed my right shoulder, reopening (and worsening) the wound Ridley had inflicted.

A scream erupted from the back of my throat as I tumbled down the hill. Dust and dirt flew up as I scraped across it. I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't throw out a hand to grab anything. I just tumbled further down the twenty foot drop.

"_Rixa!_" I heard Brant yell.

I wanted to cry out, but I couldn't. The wind was further knocked out of my back with every pummel to the ground.

But it couldn't go on forever. And it didn't. Finally, my head collided with extreme force against a thick tree at the bottom. As soon as I did, a canon went off, and everything went black.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>I have all the chapters for the arena ready. Just gotta post them. (:


	24. The Contagious Disease

The first thing I felt was pain. A throbbing pain in the back of my skull.

I grunted, rolling over on lumps of something, forcing my aching eyes open. It was blindingly bright out and I winced, pulling the blanket that surrounded me over my eyes. I popped my eyes open again and sat up, throwing off the blanket and looking around.

I was in a tent. The walls were leaf green and the ceiling flap was open, letting in light. Judging from the uncomfortable bumps of branches, I figured I was up in a tree somewhere. There was no memory of getting up here rattling around in my sore brain.

I made to get up and escape when the entrance to the tent zipped open and in popped Freddy Mason.

"Freddy?" I breathed in relief.

He grinned happily, "You're up for real?"

"For real?" I questioned.

"You've been in and out for three days now."

"_Three days?_" I almost screamed.

Freddy laughed, "Yeah, you've been pretty useless so far. You were barely coherent enough to get yourself up here. I thought you were going to fall and kill yourself."

"You let me climb a tree?" I asked irritably, "In my blacked out, not-remember-a-thing condition?"

He shrugged, "You survived. Besides, you were mostly just dehydrated. You would wake up and I'd give you some water and then you'd go back out again." He set his bag down, pulling out two cooked pheasants. "You know, I thought you were the one who was supposed to be taking care of me, not the other way around."

I sat up a little straighter, not wanting to fully stand in a tent high in the trees. "Excuse me, but who was dying of dehydration because they saw _you_ trying to fight someone twice your size without a weapon and gave you their supplies and an axe without a second thought?"

Freddy's cocky expression failed, his large brown eyes stared at me thankfully, "I never did thank you for that. I'm sorry, Rixa. You kept your promise."

His strong face just a front. I had been out for three days. God knows what had happened since I met up with the careers and Brant. Brant…

"Who's left?" I demanded.

"Me, you, Brant," I let out a small sigh of relief, "Malum, Velvet, Ridley, Bruno, the girl from Three, the girl from Five, the boy from Eight, the boy from Nine, and the girl from Ten." Freddy named them off on his fingers. There were exactly twelve of us left.

The career pack was one short. "What happened to Gusto?"

"Brant." Freddy answered grimly, "I saw you fall. Brant heard the canon and thought it was you. So did I. But, Brant just stabbed Gusto in the back and ran off. It was chaos. I waited for the hovercraft to get you because you didn't deserve to die alone. But when it didn't come I went down to check on you and you asked me about Peeta and Finnick."

"Oh," I said quietly. Brant had murdered someone. I didn't know how to respond to that. He had to know I was alive now that my face hadn't shown in the sky. He had to be looking for me. I had to start looking for him, too.

Freddy handed me one of the pheasants and the jug of water I had given him. "Eat up; you'll need your strength."

We replenished in silence. Once we were done, I told Freddy I needed to find Brant. He understood and began packing up two bags.

"What are you doing?" I questioned.

"Getting some supplies. You never know what we're going to need. What if we run into the careers and can't get back here? We've got to be prepared." Freddy answered simply, zipping up the bags and tossing one to me.

"_'We'_?" I shook my head, "Freddy, what's left of the career pack is after me. The only way I can keep you safe is if you stay here. Thank you for taking care of me but—"

"But nothing," Freddy cut me off angrily, "You _promised_, Rixa!"

There it was again. That stubborn promise. Freddy was never going to let it go until one of us was dead.

I eyed Freddy, trying so hard to size this confusing kid up. One second he was killing some tribute without a blink of an eye, the next he was tearily bringing up my promise to not leave him alone. I didn't understand it but there was no point in trying. Freddy was going to stay by my side until the end—and that was the end of that.

"Let's go." I said gruffly.

Carefully we climbed down the tree. I was impressed with Freddy's cunning to camouflage the tent and put it high up where no one would see or expect it. I wondered if Jenna had given him some ideas for hiding out until the end. And then I wondered if she had told him to keep me close so I would be vulnerable and easier to kill later on. Looking into his innocent eyes, I couldn't imagine Freddy doing that, but everyone knew that the Games changed you. It was like a contagious disease that went through you like a fever. Brant had been infected. I only wondered when I would catch it.

It was quiet as we walked along the pathway. The trees became thinner and sparer as we continued on our journey. I glanced up, watching a pack of birds fly high in the sky. Freddy stopped to take a sip of water as I memorized the scenery. A large mountain stood towering above us, looming ominously in the grayish-blue sky.

I wasn't sure what it was about our surroundings, but something felt off. The safety of the tent had disappeared. We were out in a cage with vicious predators—tribute and Capitol-made.

"So, only two tributes have died since the bloodbath?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, it's been quiet." Freddy put his water away, "A little two quiet if you ask me since they both died three days ago."

I stopped trying to take my own bottle out and glanced over at Freddy, "No one's died in three days?"

Freddy shook his head. The faux-world felt too quiet all the sudden. I couldn't see the birds anymore. I couldn't hear their chirps and wings flap. The hairs all over my body stood up, alerting me that something was wrong.

"That's not good." I muttered.

"Depends on your definition of good," Freddy said, "If you're still alive, I'd say it's pretty nice. But from the Capitol's point of view—"

Out of the corner of my eye, opposite the monstrous mountain, something fuzzy and white lifted up. I turned my head, staring directly at it in the distance. It was a large wave of some sort of mist. It didn't look deadly but I would give my water bottle that it would kill you slowly and painfully.

"Freddy," I said quickly. He stopped talking, staring at me in the alarm of my tone. There was a writhing scream somewhere in the direction of the mist wave. Freddy and I stared into the forest. The scream ended suddenly and I gulped. A canon blew off in our ears. "_Run_."

Freddy and I took off through the remainder of the forest, the scream still echoing in our ears. My breath was heavy as we jumped through brush and made our way closer to where the Game had all began, the Cornucopia.

The wall of mist was forcing us back to the Cornucopia to make the Games more interesting again. After the big bang of a start and so little casualties since then, the Capitol was getting anxious and bored. They had to spice it up. I dreaded what was waiting for us at the Cornucopia besides the careers.

Freddy's foot caught on something. I grabbed him before he could stumble over and we broke out into the meadow. The shining Cornucopia stood gleaming invitingly before us. But that wasn't our safe haven. Eight tubes stood on our starting blocks.

Eight. There were twelve of us—well, eleven now—left. Not all of us were going to make it. But, the ones that did were going to have to fight their way out once the wall dissipated and the tubes came up. That was the main point of this.

"Freddy," I breathed once we reached the tubes. Tributes ran out of the trees one by one, stealing a tube and locking themselves safely in. "Take that one!" A single tube was set invitingly for him.

"What are you going to do?" He panicked.

"I've gotta wait and save one for Brant." I explained, "GO!" I shoved him forward and he hopped it. The tube slid up, locking him in.

I stayed in a protective stance with my knife, saving two tubes for Brant and myself. My rapid gaze searched the edge of the trees for him as tributes kept staggering in. There weren't many tubes left, he had to hurry.

I checked on Freddy and he waved his arms. Something connected with the crevice of my shoulder and I went down. Another canon went off and I watched as Malum and Ridley snagged my tubes.

"No!" I screeched. By the time I scrambled up, they were safely in, giving me smug looks.

I frantically looked around. All the tubes were full. I ran into the middle of the circle, searching for Brant. Across the way, hidden from my eyes, was Brant. He slammed his hands against his tube, trying to get out to grab me. But once the tributes were in, they couldn't get out until the Gamemakers were ready to let them kill each other.

He yelled my name. It sounded muffled. I clamored over to him and placed my hands on the glass. Brant looked on the verge of tears.

"I'll be fine," I said, trying to come up with a plan to survive. "Meet me by the mountain. Get way as quickly as you can."

Before he could respond I hurried to Freddy and told him the same words and ran out of the circle. I stepped backwards continually, staring up at the impending wall. There had to be another way to survive. Eight tubes and twelve tributes. They wouldn't want us to die out that quickly. Four gone before the tubes lift and Malum is release upon them? It wasn't likely they wanted the show to end so rapidly. There _had_ to be another way out.

I surveyed the wall, spying something atop one of the trees that was tall enough to escape its menace. I squinted briefly. It was the dark-skinned Bruno who had spared my life during the bloodbath.

I swerved around, sprinting to the forest farthest away from the wall. My limbs burned and threatened to give out but my foolish will to live wouldn't let me. I slammed against a tree and started climbing up it manically. I grabbed knot after branch after limp, scrapping the skin off my palms, tearing at my fingernails. I didn't stop. I couldn't stop.

I had to live.

Once at the top, I came to the horrifying realization that my tree wasn't tall enough. I whipped my head back and forth, trying to find the perfect tree. Three trees over, was the only one that would escape the wall (at least I hoped). I fearlessly threw my body to the nearest tree, sliding a bit but otherwise catching myself. I did it again to the tree after that. The wall was over the tubes now, closing in on me quickly. I flung over the gap, missing the intended limp and fell, scrambling the grab a branch. More skin ripped from my arms and cut up the pants where my knees desperately tried to hold on.

I caught myself, smacking on a large branch almost half-way down, knocking the wind out of me. For a moment, I was too dazed to move. But, the wall was three-fourths the way across the meadow and I was out of time. I wretch upwards, moaning with pain, finding it harder to grip with blood covering my skinned-hands. I forced it out of my mind, tears trailed down my faced and I carried myself upwards, throwing my backpack to the earth floor to stop it from slowing me down.

My hand clamped around the final branch and I hoisted myself up, breathlessly. The wall followed moments later but I couldn't let out the desperate sigh of relief. I was in the clear for the wall of mist. But my brother and Freddy weren't. None of us were _really_. Not until this was over and we were either dead or the Victor.

Bruno had disappeared from the trees. The wall was trapping me up in the sky. The tubes were lifting up.

No one was in the clear. No one was safe. We were all just waiting for the Capitol to change up the Game a little. I suddenly wasn't so sure why I had wanted to live so badly. Becoming the Victor was far worse. You survive; you're forever playing the Capitol's Game.

There was no way out.


End file.
